


The Hunter

by bossladyharley



Series: The Decepticon Empire [1]
Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: All hail the Decepticon Empire amirite, Alternate Universe - Bounty Hunters, F/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-10 06:58:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6971839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bossladyharley/pseuds/bossladyharley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stealing information is a lucrative business when the galaxy is ruled by a tyrannical and restrictive empire, so long as you don't steal from the empire itself. A human data thief learns that lesson the hard way as a pair of Decepticon bounty hunters pursue her and a group of rebels across the galaxy. Surrendering may prove to be her last mistake. Too bad with Dreadwing, there's room for so many others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Pursuit

**Author's Note:**

> The companion piece to _[Play the Game](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6667918/chapters/15251119)_ by [trashtrove (editoress)](http://archiveofourown.org/users/editoress/pseuds/trashtrove).
> 
> I owe all my thanks to Elizabeth, whose initial dream concerning Dreadwing as a bounty hunter was what started this entire thing (plus her own story in retaliation). This is all for her.
> 
> These stories can be read separately but will eventually have colliding plot lines. This is the start of both. Please see the most recently posted chapter for more information on chapter order, if you would like.

Elizabeth hadn't planned to be on the run from the Decepticon Empire with a group of fellow outlaws, but sometimes that's just the way things worked out. 

She was not pleased. Mostly because the people she was stuck with did _not_ have their shit together, and she was on a tight schedule. That in and of itself would have been a big enough problem. Tack onto it the fact that they were being pursued by a relentless bounty hunter, and you had on your hands a Very Bad Day. And the hunter was gaining ground fast.

In all the years she had been stealing interplanetary secrets, information, and—if she were feeling generous or had fallen on hard times—money, she had never been caught. Suspected, sure. Classified a dangerous criminal and forbidden to return to certain quadrants of space, of course. But never caught.

But with these fools she was with, that streak seemed to be coming to an abrupt end.

"Turn there! _Turn here_ , dammit! _YOU IDIOT, YOU MISSED IT!_ "

"I swear to the Creator, Hera, if you don't get your damn hands off of me—!"

"Well, maybe if you’d actually do as I say! We could have lost him in the asteroid field!"

“Yeah, if this was fucking _Star Wars_.”

Fitz turned around just as Hera decided to pummel Kelvin for his lack of ship maneuvering. "Warp drive's still on the fritz. And if we don't hustle, we'll be in range of his cannons soon."

"Fucking perfect," Kelvin grumbled, slapping the ship's steering wheel with a meaty hand. Craning around in his seat, he pinned Elizabeth with the same disapproving glare he had no matter the situation. "What's the word, new girl? You know this sector, right?" 

"Fairly well," Elizabeth hedged with a secret smile as she typed hurriedly on a comm. "We're about to pass a moon, but keep going. It's uninhabited. The planet it's orbiting, however..."

"Got it," Kelvin said as he gunned the engine.

Their ship, the _Trinity_ , gave a protesting whine as it was pushed to run harder and faster than its age typically allowed. But desperate times and all that. Their choice was between either risking frying the engine or getting shot in the back. Fortunately, there was a third option: make it to the inhabitable planet and find some immediate cover before _either_ could occur.

Behind them, their pursuer opened fire, no doubt knowing exactly what their plan was. Judging from the precision of his shots—which only narrowly missed, thanks to Kelvin’s maneuverings—it didn’t seem like he was too concerned with apprehending them alive.

Elizabeth tightened her jaw. That just wouldn’t do. If she really were about to get caught, she’d prefer it to be alive. You couldn’t fight back and escape if you were already dead.

They entered the planet’s atmosphere at an alarming rate. How they didn’t burn up on entry was impressive enough, and Elizabeth could only attribute it to the _Trinity’s_ shields, unreliable though they tended to be.

Coming up fast before them was an expansive and clear blue ocean. Kelvin banked the ship up nowhere near the last second; if he had, they would have been more likely to crash, and then the bounty hunter really _would_ have a bunch of corpses to take back. But because of the _Trinity’s_ limitations, their pursuer gained valuable ground, his turns much sharper and controlled than theirs were.

Elizabeth braced herself, waiting for the shot that would inevitably come.

Except it didn’t.

She jerked around and watched in disbelief at the screen Fitz was studying, the very one which showed that their bounty hunter was backing off.

“What the…” Fitz was muttering, then his body tensed, and he whipped his head to Elizabeth, opening his mouth to shout a warning.

Only it was Kelvin that shouted, and it was far too late. A shot ripped into the _Trinity_ , coming not from behind them but from the front, shattering straight through their shields. Hera tackled Kelvin from his seat as sparks and fire erupted chaotically along the dash, warning horns blaring that the engine had finally overheated, they were losing fuel, and—oh, yeah—they were on a collision course. 

At least there was land ahead.

As smoke entered their compact space, Elizabeth covered her mouth with her shirt and braced for impact as best as she could.

Even with restraints, she was jostled harshly as the ship skidded along the ground and slid several feet, taking trees and who knew what else with it. Glass shattered, metal crunched, and the fire spread. Without intensive repairs, the _Trinity_ would never fly again.

Fitz helped Elizabeth out of her restraints, relatively as unharmed as she was. Hera and Kelvin weren’t so lucky, having been preoccupied with helping each other than saving themselves. Hera had been tossed into the ship’s frame, barely missing the flames. With the glass, it was a different story, and she hosted a series of cuts along her face and down her bare arms. Kelvin, on the other hand, was out cold.

Together, the team scrambled to hoist Kelvin up and carry him out of the ship. The goal was to get away from the potential time bomb that was the spreading fire and the engine fuel as well as to elude their attackers. For now they knew their enemies consisted of more than just the one bounty hunter. 

They did not get far.

Elizabeth stumbled out of the ship first, fighting back coughs and failing. She tried to scout out the area as best she could, though her coughing and the smoke rising from their ship made surveillance difficult. As if through a long tunnel, she picked up the sounds of shouts and a foreign language.

It seemed their crash had disturbed the natives.

She swiveled around once, twice, but she couldn’t pick out where their assailants were or, more frightening still, _who_ they were.

Fitz and Hera emerged from the ship, Kelvin hoisted up between them. His head was bobbing slightly, indicating a return to consciousness, but it was coming too slow. They needed to be ready to run at any second.

Elizabeth knew it was out of the question to suggest leaving him behind.

“Well,” Hera said, impatient but with a hitch to her voice that betrayed her fear, “where are they?”

“I don’t—” Elizabeth never got the chance to finish.

They heard them before they saw them. It was a disturbance of pressure in the air that sounded more constant and unyielding than thunder. And as it approached, the sound was much louder as well.

They came from the east, having looped around to return to the crash sight. Two airships, identical in every feature except for their colors. One was green, the other blue.

Fitz, though lean in frame, hoisted his laser gun in his hand with all the determination of a dog that had been kicked and was ready to exact revenge.

“Let’s see what these bad boys are made of,” he bit out, taking the attack rather personally.

“What if they’ve got a crew with them?” Elizabeth asked, clenching her own weapon tight. 

“Then we fight through them, too.”

Elizabeth prepared herself for the worst as the ships neared, but as they slowed, something happened to prove to her that her perspective of what could be classified as “the worst” was laughably unimaginative.

Instead of landing, the ships did something that real ships weren’t capable of doing. In midair, they twisted in unison, a revolution of dancing metal and screeching dissonance. When they landed, they weren’t ships any longer.

Elizabeth watched alongside her band of vagrants with wide eyes, each of them realizing by the matching brand on each giant robotic being to _whom_ their enemies belonged.

You’d have to travel to the outreaches of known space to find someone who _didn’t_ recognize the symbol of the Decepticon Empire. 

“Doesn’t look like they need a crew,” Hera muttered. She kept trying to shake and slap Kelvin awake faster, and it seemed to be working. He was beginning to curse and ward off her blows.

“But what the hell are Cybertronians— _Decepticon_ bounty hunters, even—doing coming after us?” Fitz asked, eyeing their newest member with newfound suspicion.

Elizabeth knew the exact reason why they would be here, but she was still surprised. She hadn’t expected them to react and come after her so soon. And to have been found so quickly…

A distant memory stirred, one involving a robot without a face or voice, one who seemed to see and hear everything in spite—or perhaps because of—those limitations. His security measures had been the tightest and most arduous to bypass, both in regards to the mission and any other mission she’d previously been tasked with. She thought she had gotten in and out undetected, but now she knew she was wrong. He had heard. He had _seen_.

And he had sent a few friends to retrieve her and the information she still carried. 

Her gun felt useless in her hands as she stared at the hulking beings. Running sounded more and more appealing by the second. 

That was, until, the blue-colored robot rose from his crouching position and looked up.

She didn’t know how he’d done it with just a single gesture, didn’t know why it happened, but meeting his glowing, red optics caused something within herself to stir. Restlessly.

And suddenly getting caught didn’t seem like such a scary, end-of-the-world thing.

Elizabeth holstered her gun and, without looking at her companions, said, “Go.”

Hera looked at her like she’d grown a tail. “What?”

“They’re after me, not you.” At least that’s what Elizabeth thought. Perhaps her temporary crew _had_ put themselves under the Decepticon radar before she met them. But also perhaps not. “I can buy you guys some time, but you need to start running _now_.”

Hera’s argument was half-hearted while Fitz remained stonily silent. It was a groggy-sounded but independently upright Kelvin who got the ball running.

“Do as she says.” He held an unsure hand to his head, but his tone was nothing but certain. “If she wants to make a final stand, let her. As for us, we need to go.”

Elizabeth didn’t watch as they left her, skirting around the wreckage of their ship to rush towards the safety of the trees. She didn’t take their ready abandonment personally. They hadn’t exactly been friends. Instead, she marched forward, taking note that the green Decepticon was already stalking in the direction her ex-comrades had fled. Fortunately, she would intercept him.

She couldn’t help but notice how the blue Decepticon remained still and merely watched her.

Holding her hands up in surrender, she marched forward and stopped in the line of the green Con’s path. Either he’d stop or he’d step on her.

Mercifully, he stopped, looking down at her with contempt.

“Well, _officers_ ,” she said, stretching the word out mockingly. “Congratulations. You caught me. I hope it was worth it. Though sending two hunters for a single mark seems a bit much.”

“Where did your fellow rebels go, human?” the green Con demanded severely, as if daring Elizabeth to speak anything but the immediate answer to his question.

“Been doing your research on me, huh.” She smiled and shrugged. “And I don’t know about rebels, but those other idiots piloting the ship went _crazy_ and ran, I hope.”

The Con sneered down at her then turned to his blue companion, who Elizabeth could see was identical to the green Con in everything but color scheme, just the same as their airborne modes were.

“Dreadwing, continue the hunt.”

“With pleasure, brother.”

During the exchange, brief though it was, Elizabeth learned a series of important points. The first was that the dashing bot blue was named Dreadwing, and it was a name that was indescribably befitting. The second was that his voice was as deep as she’d hoped and even more assertive and confident than she’d imagined. The third was that the green bot was his brother, and the fourth—and perhaps most important—point was that the robot she was intrigued by was about to leave her with the other robot that she was decidedly _not_ on board with and who she had just succeeding in pissing off.

Just as rapidly, Elizabeth recalled a key fact about the hunter who had initially chased them. The ship’s color scheme had been green. Which meant the one who had shot them down had been… 

“ _You’re_ the one that shot us down. Dreadwing, is it?” Elizabeth wasn’t hard of hearing; she’d just really wanted to say his name aloud, test it on her tongue. “I hope if you’re the one who’s going to do all the work on this little hunt that you’ll keep all of the reward money. Even if Green Machine over here _is_ your brother.”

The green Con’s response was a piercing blade as he leaned down to pin her with his stare. “Prisoners should learn when it is prudent to speak and when it is best to hold their tongue. I assure you, by the time you reach Kaon, you will have learned that valuable lesson.”

“But,” Dreadwing interjected, neither pleased nor displeased with the current conversation at hand. “The mark has a fair point, Skyquake. You don’t want to have come all this way without demonstrating the full power of Lord Megatron’s perfect law yourself, do you?” 

The green Con, now identified as Skyquake, seemed to think on Dreadwing’s words. Soon, he straightened.

“Indeed, you’re right. It _has_ been a while since I truly stretched my wings and enjoyed the thrill of the hunt. Watch the human, Dreadwing. I shall return with the others, alive or otherwise.”

In a smooth transformation that took seconds, Skyquake took to the air in a blast of power and wind. Elizabeth flung up an arm, covering her face from the heat that rushed from his engine before he left them rapidly behind.

When she lowered her arm, she was smiling. “Ah, alone at last.” She turned around to face her captor. “I do so love it when things go my— _whoa!_ ”

Elizabeth staggered back the second she noticed the sword Dreadwing was holding in his left hand, a wickedly sharp, wide blade he hadn’t been holding before. And he was pointing it right at her.

This must be what a fly felt like when it was up against a fly swatter. It was terribly unfair and just short of ridiculous. All the same, Elizabeth felt charmed at the sight.

This feeling worsened when he began to speak.

“Elizabeth Palmer. Alias: the Extractor. Your only option for remaining alive relies upon your immediate and unconditional surrender. Otherwise, I _will_ kill you, extract the information you have stolen, and present both it and your organic corpse to Lord Megatron. Do you understand?” 

Elizabeth raised her arms in surrender as he was speaking, indicating that she had no intentions of fighting back physically. She schooled her features to take his words seriously, which honestly confused her. Dreadwing _was_ deadly serious, and she wouldn’t stand a chance if he decided to terminate her. There was no question of that. So why did she so badly want to smile?

“Yeah, sounds good,” she said in response to his question before scrunching her nose in distaste. “Although, I was never really fond of that name. The _Extractor_. Not very flashy. But, alas, Black Mamba and Quartermaster were already taken.”

Dreadwing, however, was not listening. He had just received an internal transmission from Skyquake.

_The rebels have commandeered another vessel and are piloting it off world. I am in pursuit. Continue on to Cybertron with the thief. I will meet you at the capital with the other prey._

Dreadwing sent back a single word. _Understood._

Elizabeth was surprised when Dreadwing suddenly sheathed his sword then stooped down to trap her in one hand. Her arms were free and she squirmed, automatically rebelling against the tight squeeze he had her in. She stopped when she noticed his other hand coming towards her.

In a burst of rationality, uneasiness seized her in a tighter grip than Dreadwing’s own. “What are you—?”

A small bit of metal flew from between his fingertips seemingly of its own accord and came to snap around her wrists, resizing itself around them both in a cruel pinch. Handcuffs. Fantastic. She knew that tugging against them would be just as pointless as her previous attempts against his hand had been, but she tried anyway.

“So out of curiosity,” she said, straining against her bonds to no avail, “what precisely are you capturing me for? And what’s Megatron offering you in exchange?”

Dreadwing’s stern voice was a steady and distracting vibration. “You are under arrest for daring to commit cyberattacks against the Decepticon Empire. It is as simple as that.”

He’d ignored her other question, and Elizabeth decided to let it go for now. 

“I bet it doesn’t help my case that I succeeded in those attacks, does it?”

Dreadwing’s brows turned down in contempt. “Neither will your arrogance, _thief._ ” He spit out the last word as if it were a thing too disgusting to contemplate.

“I prefer the terms information broker or freelancer,” she said flippantly, meeting his crimson optics with a challenge in her own. “I’m an activist for the free acquisition of uncensored information. A hacktivist, if you will.”

"You are a thief and a degenerate, and that is exactly how you will be treated."

His tone was angry, and she expected his body to react in anger against her as well, perhaps have his hand squeeze her into silence. But other than the ire in his words, he maintained strict control over himself, and she was impressed. It gave her the courage to say what she was about to say next.

"Sure do know all the right things to say to a girl," Elizabeth quipped back smartly as a coy smile settled on her lips. "But while we're doling out compliments, allow me to say: authority in a man is _so_ attractive. You’re _really_ getting my blood going, handsome."

Dreadwing couldn't be sure if she was joking or not. All the same, it was better to stamp out any wayward thoughts this human criminal might be harboring.

With a sneer to match Skyquake’s, he said, "Cease your prattle. I am not even of your species."

Master of his own emotions though he was, Dreadwing couldn't help the sense of, well, _dread_ that fell over him when his captive's only response was an airy laugh. Even when he transformed into his alt-mode—the thief secure in his cockpit—she didn’t seem the slightest bit shaken. If anything, her interest and confidence only seemed to grow.

It was going to be a long flight back to Cybertron.


	2. Pit Stop

Space stretched endlessly around Elizabeth as she and Dreadwing flew past distant stars. She was surprised that they hadn’t gone into warp speed yet, but she had determined that Dreadwing did not have that kind of modification. Or perhaps he did and was unable to collaborate it to accommodate a human passenger.

Her failure to get answers out of him wasn’t for lack of trying. But every time she spoke, he seemed determined to answer in as few words as possible.

Elizabeth was far from bothered. Nor was she remotely upset that they weren’t hurtling through space at warp speed, boring though the scenery had become. Trying to get under Dreadwing’s metal, figuratively speaking, was far more entertaining. 

"Not that I’m questioning you or anything," she began with another attempt at conversation, "but at the rate we’re going it’s going to take months to get to Cybertron. And if that really _is_ the plan, I guess now’s a good time to inform you that I really have to pee.”

Dreadwing let out a small noise of disgust and dipped down erratically, like he was trying to shake something off of him. 

"You will do no such thing. We’ll be arriving at Cog shortly." 

"Oh." The thief perked up. "So, no Cybertron?" 

"Don’t sound too hopeful,” his voice rumbled around her, undeniably pleased at her brief show of naiveté. “We are merely stopping for supplies and to acquire a ship. One that preferably has a separate holding cell with walls you can speak to instead of me."

Elizabeth released an exaggeratedly dreamy sigh. “Consider me seduced, Dreadwing.”

Dreadwing was silent, but Elizabeth was unable to deduce if it was a deliberate silence or one of unease. 

Just when she thought she’d have to come up with something else to say in order to get him to speak again, he said, almost as an afterthought, “You are a strange brand of scourge upon the universe, do you know that?” 

"Just so long as I’m _your_ strange brand of scourge.”

Dreadwing made a curious grumbling sound then went silent. He stubbornly stayed that way until they reached the planet Cog and even when they breached the atmosphere.

Cog was a planet with its own unique, proud history. Not among that proud history, in Elizabeth’s opinion, was its unconditional and immediate surrender to the Empire’s forces. Not one for strife, the people of Cog foresaw greater results for their way of life in compliance rather than resistance. And as Elizabeth viewed the impressive, twinkling cityscape of one of their main ports, she determined that they had suffered very little from Megatron’s tyranny.

The port reeked of opulence, the kind Elizabeth was familiar with through association with her clients and her targets. Because, really, there was no reason for the rich, red wine-colored buildings and the very floor they walked on to shine like polished marble, even against the obsidian of the night sky. A vindictive part of her hoped that Dreadwing’s heavy, metallic footsteps were leaving ugly scuffmarks behind him as she was forced to march ahead, her hands still cuffed.

Dreadwing even had a delegation ready to meet him at the end of the landing strip, but it was unclear if they were familiar with each other, or if serving Cybertronians or any other visitor in such a way was business as usual for Cogs.

"Commander Dreadwing," the first delegate spoke up, stepping forward. With his straight posture and elongated neck, the lithe being was taller than Elizabeth by an easy two feet, his glittering, golden robes hiding the majority of his navy skin. His hands were clasped behind him, and he never once paid Elizabeth any acknowledgement, his focus solely on Dreadwing. 

But Elizabeth quickly lost interest in puzzling out this new race. What the delegate had said was far more noteworthy.

 _Commander?_ she mused. _I thought he was just a bounty hunter. Since when do those have rank?_

Her companion was turning out to be more intriguing than even she had anticipated.

Once Dreadwing had approached, the delegate spoke again, seeming completely unperturbed by the giant, mechanical being before him. Elizabeth realized that it would be him alone conducting this meeting. The four others that flanked him, each with similar dress and complexion, were merely for show.

"Your Energon reserves are waiting for you, and the ship you requested is being prepped and should be ready within the hour." For the first time, the delegate glanced at Elizabeth, acknowledging her briefly, before dismissing her again.

“And what of my other instructions?”

The delegate inclined his head. “Our airspace is being restricted until you depart. As you requested.”

Elizabeth highly doubted such a thing had been a mere request. 

"Is there anything else you require while you wait?" the delegate asked.

"Yes," Dreadwing rumbled before pushing Elizabeth forward. The sudden feeling of sharp claws on her back made the hair on the back of her neck stand up, and a chill made its way down her spine in a manner that wasn’t entirely due to alarm. Even after he withdrew his hand, the sensation lingered.

"See to it that her basic needs are met, then return her directly to me. Under no circumstances are you to let her out of your sight, or Primus help you."

Elizabeth fought the urge to glance back at him, or smile, or do anything remotely suspicious. He was actually going to let her use the restroom. Hilarious! She wouldn’t mention that she had just been joking before. 

The delegate directed his gaze to Elizabeth and held it. Brown, human-like eyes studied her for a moment, but rather than being comforted by the familiarity, Elizabeth was unnerved. Especially considering how unkind those eyes had become.

"What manner of creature is this," he said slowly, "that we must watch it so closely?"

Dreadwing’s reply was short. “A criminal.”

"And what has this criminal done to warrant Lord Megatron’s displeasure?" 

Dreadwing’s optics narrowed, not trusting the delegate’s question to be as innocent as it sounded.

"I cannot comment on an ongoing investigation," Dreadwing replied sternly. "Now, my _ship_ , if you please.”

"Of course, Commander. Forgive me." After a short bow, the delegate gestured an arm towards a line of ships waiting for approval to dispatch. "If you’ll follow me." 

By this point, two delegates from the silent portion of the welcome committee had each wrapped a hand around Elizabeth’s arms and were proceeding to lead her away. And despite her best efforts to drag her feet, their progress wasn’t exactly hindered.

 _I’m so tired,_ Elizabeth thought, _of always finding aliens who are physically stronger than me._

"Hold on a second," she exclaimed, willing her voice to carry to Dreadwing’s retreating back. 

Dreadwing stopped but did not turn around. When it became clear she wasn’t going to continue unless she got some real acknowledgment, he begrudgingly turned to face her.

"What?" he snapped, red optics narrowed in suspicion. 

Elizabeth didn’t know yet if that was his default expression or if he specifically had to use it 24/7 around her.

"Didn’t you forget something?" Elizabeth twisted around, held up her bound hands, and smiled widely. 

"No," said Dreadwing, already turning back to follow the delegate again.

"Oh, come on!" Elizabeth tried to step forward, forgetting that she was being held in place. Not wanting to appear hostile, she stopped. "I can’t very well visit the lady’s room without the use of my hands. Besides." She screwed up her face. "It just isn’t sanitary." 

Dreadwing regarded her for a long moment, an inscrutable look on his face. Elizabeth attempted the same. Then all at once, her hands were free, the cuffs previously holding them sailing through the air towards Dreadwing’s waiting hand.

"Be quick," he ordered Elizabeth’s guards before walking away, his footfalls purposeful and sure.

Elizabeth let herself be led away. She rolled her shoulders and then her wrists slowly, working out the stiffness in her joints. One of her guards squeezed her arm in warning, as if to say, “Don’t even think of doing anything funny.”

She redirected her gaze to the ground and smiled.

* * *

It had been all too easy to escape her captors. The port was as crowded with people as an international airport back on Earth, despite how homogeneous the average population appeared to be. The bathrooms, all unisex, each had lines, and despite Dreadwing’s warning, neither guard was willing to go in with her. Instead, they laid casual hands on their hips, the exact place a perceived weapon would be, confident that she got the hint and would return without fuss. Unfortunately for them, they didn’t know how willing Elizabeth was to calling people’s bluffs, and they also forgot about the windows in the bathroom and how accessible they were. She had attracted many strange looks while climbing out of it, so she knew it wouldn’t be long before she was pursued.

That was fine. She just wanted some time to look around and think things over anyway. She couldn’t do that around Dreadwing. 

Namely because she couldn’t seem to stop talking to him.

She wasn’t escaping. Not unless Dreadwing decided to become totally incompetent suddenly. She was just making things interesting. She was exploring.

She couldn’t really help it. The sheer urge to touch, to take from the glitz and glamor around her was almost too much. From the looks of things, absolutely no one here would notice if a little bit went missing.

Besides, she had no time or energy to spare worrying over the feelings of Decepticon collaborators.

As she walked a few blocks at a brisk but comfortable pace, she took in her surroundings. The whole atmosphere of the place was unfamiliar but strangely non-threatening, like she was walking on a planet full of Athenians, all scholars, philosophers, and orators. Buildings towered around her on every side, not made out of metal and glass but of carved stone, some chalky and some reflective, like mirrors. But though they each shared the same red wine color as those at the port, no two buildings looked alike. In fact, it was hard to tell which were businesses and which were residential spaces, and Elizabeth imagined that only through immersion would she ever be able to tell such a thing with accuracy.

But there was one thing she _did_ know from her cursory view of the city streets, something that made disappointment settle in her stomach like stagnant water. A planet called Cog and not a single clock motif in sight. Opportunity wasted, as far as she was concerned.

Speaking of missed opportunities, Elizabeth remembered her former companions: Fitz, Hera, and Kelvin. She did not wonder where they were, if they had escaped, if they were safe. Instead, she wondered on the curious fact that Dreadwing and his brother had been after them as well, and they’d been called by both bounty hunters something very different than her own label: rebels.

Elizabeth frowned. There was a clear distinction between a rebel and her own designation as a criminal. Dreadwing himself confirmed that by speaking so deliberately, whenever he spoke at all.

As the information broker weaved her way between tall, reed-like bodies, she couldn’t help but feel that _she_ had been the one who’d been fooled, instead of the other way around.

In the midst of fleeing Cybertron, Elizabeth thought she had picked them out and their ship in a combination of convenience and chance. She’d gotten her hands on some sensitive information from the Decepticon high command, and she’d needed to clear Decepticon airspace immediately. But now that she thought about it, finding them had been a little _too_ convenient, a little _too_ planned. And it hadn’t been _her_ plan.

One thing she hadn’t liked about this job—other than its obvious danger—was that she never knew her client’s identity. Normally, if they didn’t share it, she found other ways to discover who they were. In the digital world, there was always a trail to follow if you knew where to look. But on this one there had been nothing.

Elizabeth could only think of one group who’d be so thorough in hiding themselves, which was saying something, since every member of this group was declared by the Empire to be officially and supposedly dead.

So, if the crew of the _Trinity_ were actually rebels, if they _had_ been sent there by her client to make sure she got off Cybertron safely, then did that mean…?

Was this confirmation that rumors of Autobot survivors were more than rumors?

Because who else would be crazy enough and desperate enough to request a job like this?

 _To say nothing of who’s crazy or desperate enough to accept it_ , Elizabeth thought dryly. 

But there were still too many unknowns to be sure and far too many questions. If Fitz and the others had been sent to retrieve her and her information, then either they were brilliant actors, or they hadn’t know it when she decided to give herself up. But if they _had_ known, then why had they let her get captured with it still in her possession?

Perhaps they weren’t given the whole truth, either…

Because she knew, without a doubt, that she still had it, in all its encrypted glory. Her name, the Extractor, had more than one meaning, given to her by her clients as it was. Any information she acquired wasn’t something that could just be _taken_ from her. Rather, it, too, had to be extracted in just the right way, as carefully and deliberately as the means she used to obtain it. Her methodology was all part of the reason why she attracted the high-profile clients she did. It wasn’t just because she _succeeded_. It was because she delivered the information safely and securely one hundred percent of the time.

But she’d never stolen from the Decepticons before. And if she was intent on staying with Dreadwing for as long as possible, that untarnished success rate of hers was sure to be forfeited in exchange.

To say nothing of her life.

“Oomph!” she exclaimed, colliding into something that was slightly squishy yet undeniably solid.

Reeling back to regain her footing, Elizabeth realized that she’d run headlong into a rather regally attired Cog, and he was less than pleased with coming into contact with her. In fact, he was advancing on her, spitting and snapping at her in what she supposed was the Cogs’ native language.

“Heh,” she said uncertainly, raising her hands up in surrender but standing her ground. “Sorry! So sorry!”

He jabbed a long finger in a sharp, violent movement from his eyes to her torso, a sneer evident on his face as he glared down at her. Elizabeth got the message: watch where you’re going, scum.

Her placating smile didn’t leave until he’d backed off and continued on his way. Spectators who had stopped to stare quickly lost interest and moved on as well.

Elizabeth stared after him, once again noticing that, while the citizens around her were undeniably well dressed, her new friend seemed to be on another level of the economic spectrum.

Perhaps he was corporate or maybe a cleric. A wealthy landowner or a government official. Either way, he’d been incredibly rude about an honest mistake, and he obviously looked down on her.

Elizabeth slipped a hand into her pocket, feeling the metallic wallet that now rested there.

She supposed it was nice of him to repay his behavior by treating her to lunch.

* * *

_“Slag.”_

Dreadwing knew the instant she slipped away. It was an instinct he had that made him such a formidable hunter, even more so than his twin. It was this same instinct that told him Skyquake had yet to apprehend his own marks, though Dreadwing wasn’t concerned. Skyquake hadn’t contacted Dreadwing to report any trouble, so the hunt must be going exactly as Skyquake wanted it to go.

As such, he didn’t wait for the two simpletons who had guarded the human criminal to run up and tell him the news. Without so much as a word to his host, he transformed into his alt-mode and blazed into the sky, leaving stunned onlookers behind him. 

She had not left the planet. He knew that much, not because of his instinct, but because the skies were clear. No other ship had entered or left the planet, per his instructions to the Cogs, the overly obliging sheep that they were, and this command they had actually followed correctly. She was nearby. And he would find her and make sure she learned a thing or two about obeying the instructions of her betters.


	3. Getting to Know the Enemy

They had public parks on Cog, even more lush and pristine than the ones on Earth and twice as busy.

Elizabeth settled herself cross-legged on a bench, intending to scarf down her lunch before Dreadwing found her. And he would certainly find her. She hadn't exactly made it difficult.

She didn't have time to inspect the food and get an idea of just what she was eating before she felt a small weight on her knee.

"That looks yummy," a young Cogling said, this one with large, crystal clear eyes and light blue skin. "Can I have some?"

Elizabeth's resistance started to crumble. But she straightened her spine. She had to be authoritative, no matter how cute or damaging the Cogling's attacks were.

"You're not supposed to ask strangers for food," she instructed firmly but kindly. "It could be dangerous."

"But I'm hungry," the Cogling said, not so much as a whine but as a statement of fact.

"Where are your caretakers?"

He pointed towards another gaggle of Coglings farther off. Among them was a taller Cog, clearly older but still ripe in adulthood. This one, Elizabeth surmised, may be the little one's sibling.

She was just about to tell the Cogling to go report that it was lunchtime when another little voice peeped in her ear, "Oooooh! That's my favorite! Can I have some?"

By the time Elizabeth turned her head to see another Cogling literally hanging over the back of the bench, reaching for her utensil, she was surrounded.

It was in this state—warding off pleading eyes, endearing supplications, and daring little hands—that Dreadwing found her.

He landed with an earth-shaking thud, completing his transformation from aircraft to Cybertronian just before his pedes touched the ground. Several Coglings shrieked at his sudden, violent appearance, some in alarm, some in delight. Very few of them had seen a Cybertronian up close like this before.

Elizabeth, in the meantime, had heard the particular thundering sound of his jet engines approaching and was hurriedly shoveling food into her mouth. The Coglings were sufficiently distracted, and if she had any inkling of Dreadwing's personality down, she had the sneaking suspicion he was going to be short with her.

Perhaps even short enough to not let her finish her lunch, and she couldn't let that happen. She hadn’t eaten a real meal since shortly before fleeing Cybertron, had been too preoccupied and anxious to do so. When Dreadwing mentioned seeing to her basic needs—not the ones she hoped for, sadly—she realized just the one that should take precedence, the very one he had probably forgotten about.

She locked eyes with him just as she finished her last bite. His optics were narrowed with his mouth drawn into a firm line, but otherwise his expression was guarded. She couldn't make out just how angry he was.

“Is this your idea of an escape attempt? It’s feeble, at best.”

Elizabeth got the impression he was trying to insult her.

“Believe me, Commander. When an attempt is actually made, you’ll be able to tell the difference.”

“I can assure you, Palmer, that _when_ will never happen.”

He appeared to want to say more—do more, perhaps—but instead he stopped, not taking another step towards her. She had been expecting a harsher reprimand than what she’d received, perhaps some sort of vile punishment inspired straight from the pits of Kaon. It took Elizabeth but a moment to deduce why he wasn’t following through, and she had to discreetly cover her mouth to hide her smile.

Dreadwing hadn’t been expecting an audience comprised primarily of children, especially ones as small as these. A couple Coglings rushed past them in a racing game, and Elizabeth noticed how Dreadwing shifted uneasily in his movements, as if afraid they would run into him, his concern not for himself but for their safety.

At the sight, her heart melted and a wayward sigh passed her lips. Dreadwing brought his gaze back to her, though he hadn’t heard her slip.

"Corrupting the youth of this world already, I see." Dreadwing's optics swept over the Coglings still gathered around her in disapproval.

"Me? Never. I'm just wondering, if this planet is under the protection and benefit of the Decepticon Empire, why so many Coglings are starving. It's a _mystery_."

"What?" One of the Cogling's attentions diverted from Dreadwing's impressive frame. His round eyes darted from Elizabeth to her empty food container and back again. "Whoa, you ate it all already? No fair! I wanted some!"

Elizabeth clasped her hands together in supplication. "I'm really sorry. You'll forgive me, won't you, slugger?"

"Slugger?" It was Dreadwing who replied, a curious tilt to his brow as he regarded her with renewed suspicion.

The Cogling did nothing except to shrug and chase after his—Brother? Friend?—with renewed vigor. Once again, Dreadwing watched after them, almost like he was making sure they weren't getting themselves into too much trouble. He almost seemed concerned. At first she was tempted to strike up these occurrences to her imagination. After all, what kind of bounty hunter was also some sort of military commander _and_ good with kids? The saying, “Too good to be true,” didn’t even begin to cover it. But then she remembered. Dreadwing was a twin, the younger one if she had to guess. And he seemed to know a thing or two about kids and protection and familial loyalty.

"Now explain. Why did you run?"

Elizabeth came back to herself.

"Because I was starving."

“I expect a real answer out of you, human. Do not force me to make you compliant.”

She rolled her eyes. So he _had_ forgotten.

"Your idea and my idea of basic needs clearly differ here, Dread.” His eyes narrowed again and his mouth curled in slight distaste at the nickname, but he was listening. “I'm an organic, _Commander_ , and one does not eat by Energon alone."

This argument, of all things, seemed to placate him.

When he stepped forward again, she knew what to expect. She didn't resist arrest, smiling demurely instead of wincing when he replaced the cuffs on her. He picked her up, his large, mechanical hand wrapping around her entire midsection and legs with ease. She was struck at last by the sheer power resting behind his grip, power he was clearly keeping in check. He could crush her easily if he wanted to, but despite his low opinion of her, he didn’t even leave a bruise on her, yet there was also no question of her captivity. She wouldn’t be going anywhere unless he deemed it so.

She wondered if he could feel her quickened heartbeat or not. If he could, it was a good thing he left her arms free again. Trailing a teasing finger along his own, she said, “So where to next, handsome? You gonna take me away from all of this?”

“I see your posturing and stalling for what it is, thief. Unfortunately for you, our next stop is Kaon, where you will surely meet your fate.”

She felt like she already had, if only a certain someone would cooperate. “I gotta say, of all the realms in this vast universe, I’ve _never_ wanted to go there.”

Without further pretense, Dreadwing assumed his alt-mode, trapping her inside. He flew with urgency, as if her little jaunt had cost them some time. As far as she knew, they didn't have a tight schedule to keep, short of keeping Lord Megatron happy.

But then, Dreadwing didn't exactly share much with her.

* * *

Dreadwing's newly acquired ship could easily accustom three fully-grown Cybertronians and a few newbuilds besides, making it a massive space for Elizabeth. She'd been on large ships like this before but never had the size ratio from object to human been so off. Surely, this must have been how Alice felt after drinking the potion that made her small.

Dreadwing placed her in the co-pilot seat and removed her cuffs.

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at him. "Surprising."

"You're not going anywhere."

Considering that her long legs didn't even reach the end of the seat, and the ground was such a long way off, she had no argument for that. When Dreadwing sat beside her, taking the pilot controls and preparing for liftoff, she found that she didn't even want to argue.

"So why'd we stop for a ship, anyway? What? Did a big guy like you get tired of chauffeuring me around?"

"I do _not_ tire or chauffeur, as you put it. I pursued you for longer than you realize. Now that you're in custody, it would merely be a waste of Energon."

"Oh, _right_. Isn't there supposed to be a shortage recently?"

Dreadwing failed to react, but that was perhaps because he realized just how closely he was being watched.

It was clear he wasn’t going to answer her falsely flippant question. Time for another change of topic.

“So,” Elizabeth started, “is there a radio in this rig or…?”

Dreadwing’s tactic didn’t change. He remained resolutely silent and controlled, optics trained on some spot in front of them as Cog steadily shrank behind them and space loomed endlessly in front.

“That’s a no, then. Okay. But, y’know, you’re _absolutely_ right, Dread. Who needs a radio when I’m _right here_?”

Elizabeth took in a large gulp of air, intending to rock his world with some much-needed belting. Maybe she’d do an aria. Or a piece from the _Dracula_ musical. Or “Uptown Girl,” complete with that weird, Billy Joel accent. Or maybe just all three and more for their long flight.

“Don’t. Don’t you _dare_ start singing.”

She deflated like a flat tire. “I’ll have you know, my voice is the pride and joy of the Palmer family.”

“Only the voice. What a shock.”

“Well, _you_ sing then, smart guy.”

“I _don’t_ sing.”

“Don’t or can’t?”

He refused to answer. That always seemed to be the outcome, no matter how she approached him. He’d humor her for a bit but would immediately shut down whenever she started getting too close. It was almost reflexive, but whether it was a natural part of Dreadwing’s personality or a part of his training, she had no way to tell. When her eyes started drooping in utter exhaustion, she decided she would figure all of that out at a later time.

Even though she wished him a goodnight, he remained the same, his profile sharp and unyielding. She climbed down from her seat to get some much-deserved rest, impressed with herself that she even had the energy left to do that much. The first empty room she found with something that resembled a bed she took, somewhat comforted that it was so close to the cockpit. Or rather that it was so close to the one who piloted it. Whether Dreadwing was relieved or joyed or disappointed by her disappearance was anyone’s guess, perhaps including Dreadwing himself.

The Seeker was much too guarded to allow himself those notions.

* * *

Elizabeth’s dreams that night were uneasy and fragmented, much like how she felt during her waking hours but managed to keep at bay. But in sleep, she was as unprotected as anyone else. She knew, deep down, that she _couldn’t_ go to Kaon. She could _not_ allow herself to be surrendered away, especially not without somehow getting her intelligence out to the right people. But in her dreams, she was trapped by a shadow jury that made sounds like buzz saws whenever they moved and who spoke in a language even her universal translator chip couldn’t understand.

Dreadwing alone remained clear, colored, and in focus among them, staring down at her from on high, not saying a word but watching her expectantly, and she knew what that meant. She knew, irrevocably, that she was foolishly pinning all her hopes on him, and to do what? Save her? Trust her? Help her? None of these things seemed possible in the dream world, let alone the real one.

She was almost grateful when her body jerked her back awake.

What disturbed her wasn't anything concise so much as a sudden sense of wrongness, like a door being left open that was normally shut or a swing set in motion when there was nothing there to move it. Surveying her surroundings with bleary eyes revealed none of these things, but still she could tell the atmosphere had changed.

It wasn't until her sense of sound returned to full force that she realized the source of her alarm: Dreadwing. More accurately, it was his voice, which no longer sounded like its stern but calm inflection. Instead, it was rushed and just short of frantic.

“Skyquake! Do you hear me? I repeat, what is your status? Skyquake! _Skyquake!_ ” Dreadwing paused, and Elizabeth strained her ears, listening. Not even static scratched its way through the ship’s transmissions. There was only an eerie, blank, and distinct lack of sound.

Immediately she was in motion, throwing the thin cloth of her makeshift bed aside and rushing out the door. She appeared in the entrance to the cockpit just as Dreadwing was finishing another set of pleas for his brother to answer him. In a rare display, Dreadwing slammed his fist down on the console, and Elizabeth jumped at the speed and violence of the blow. “ _Slag it!_ ”

She edged her way toward him. His frame was bent slightly, his arms spread and hands on the console holding him upright. “What’s happening?”

“This doesn’t concern you, fleshling. Return to your quarters and leave me be.”

Something was wrong. Something was really wrong, and she couldn’t leave him alone like this. He wasn’t even looking at her, and his voice, usually sharp, sounded feathery around the edges, as if he’d lost his inner fire. Not knowing what she was starting, she answered with what she felt was right. “No.”

“I’ve no time to argue with you.” Dreadwing’s hands flew across numerous keys on the controls. Belatedly, Elizabeth only realized he was sending a transmission when the clear glass of the windshield brightened, turning into a screen which soon flickered into life. The receiver of the transmission took up the expanse of the ship’s screen.

The face that met her was one Elizabeth knew but never hoped to meet, and its sudden appearance came as a shock to her system.

“Lord Megatron.” Dreadwing bowed his head in respect. “I fear I must deliver terrible news.”

“If that news involves you losing the human thief, Dreadwing, I commend your bravery for daring to address me thus far.”

The arrogant smugness of the statement was only second to its surety, as if Megatron were _expecting_ Dreadwing to fail and was just waiting for the day. Elizabeth bristled. Everyone had heard, of course, about Megatron’s intolerance for failure. She had also heard of his swift means of correcting that failure. She took a step forward, intending to announce herself, but Dreadwing beat her to it, sounding neither bothered by Megatron’s accusations nor surprised. Was he used to it?

“No, my Lord. Palmer is on board and accounted for. No, it’s Skyquake.” Dreadwing’s voice didn’t so much break as lose its edge towards the end, like getting cut with a dull blade. “I’ve lost his signal.”

Megatron’s molten gaze was steady as he regarded one of his most level-headed commanders. “Soundwave has just alerted me to that fact. But there are many reasons why such a thing could happen.”

But Dreadwing was already shaking his head. “He’s gone, my Lord. His spark. I felt it.”

A strange light came into Megatron’s eyes, and when he slowly spoke, Elizabeth discerned his sharp teeth. “Twinsparks. Of course. You’re certain, then?”

“There haven’t been many things I’ve been more certain of than this.”

“Then you have my condolences, Dreadwing. I, too, know what it’s like to lose one whom I called a brother. That must mean the rebels overtook him and escaped.”

A new fire seemed to come alive in Dreadwing’s optics. Elizabeth felt herself step back at the sight, nearly falling into a fighter’s stance.

“Permission to pursue them, my Lord.”

“Denied. You are to bring the human to me _before_ settling your personal affairs, Dreadwing.”

“But, Lord Megatron, if the rebels had help in defeating my twin—and by all accounts, I know they _did_ —isn’t it better for us in the long term to discover for certain who they are and perhaps where they are?”

When Megatron’s optics narrowed in warning, it contained a dark promise that Dreadwing’s didn’t. “Your grief is causing you to forget yourself _and_ your station, Commander. I will decide what is ‘better’ for our cause as I have done for vorns, _not_ you.”

“Of course, Lord Megatron. Forgive me.”

“Return to Cybertron with what was stolen from us, Dreadwing, and you will have earned my forgiveness.”

The transmission terminated, not by any of Dreadwing’s doing.

Elizabeth hung back, just watching him. She didn’t want to go back to sleep—couldn’t—but she had no idea what to do. Usually, she had a go-to plan, but that plan could never account for lost loved ones.

She herself hadn’t any love for Skyquake, nor he for her, but she hadn’t known him and vice versa. What she _did_ know was how much she liked Dreadwing, and she surmised that anyone who had Dreadwing for a brother couldn’t be _that_ bad himself. Only now she wouldn’t get that chance to find out for sure, and if that put a gloom on her heart, she could only imagine what Dreadwing himself was feeling. To not only lose a brother but also a twin…?

How could this have happened?

She must have spoken aloud for Dreadwing straightened to his full height and said, “That’s what I intend to find out.”

Elizabeth watched with amazement and unquestionable respect as Dreadwing gripped the controls and adjusted course. Disobeying his lord and master on account of his brother. Now that was something she could get behind.

Wanting to be certain, she asked, “But what about bringing me to justice and all that?”

“Most people in your position would be pleased with the delay, even hopeful, which is ill-advised.”

“Won’t you get in some sort of trouble for this? You’re not just a hunter, after all. Your rank—”

“Skyquake is the reason I became a Seeker Commander in the first place. I owe it to him to discover what happened. And to bury his remains if necessary.”

Elizabeth had a million more questions, and normally she would ask them. But not now. Not when he was so vulnerable. It wasn’t any fun that way, or right.

So she resumed her seat in the co-pilot’s chair, but not before retrieving a small blanket, which she bunched around her legs. She made it clear through body language alone that she wasn’t leaving him again.

As their course plunged towards Skyquake’s last known location, Elizabeth thought to herself that, perhaps one day, she could say such a thing aloud. And perhaps one day, pigs would fly and she’d wake to a universe that wasn’t ruled by an iron-fisted empire, and he would say the same back to her and really, truly mean it.

It would have been better for her thoughts to remain buried, because if there was one thing Elizabeth was skilled at, it was getting what she wanted in a manner that was best for everyone, except the entity she was stealing from.

As things currently stood, it was unclear just who that entity was supposed to be.


	4. Family Is Everything

They traveled by warp speed during their waking hours, burning through the Energon reserves at an alarming rate as they backtracked, traveling twice the distance it would have taken to get to Cybertron. But Elizabeth knew better than to bring up how this could be a problem later. Dreadwing knew what he was doing, and learning the truth about Skyquake was more important than worrying about being stranded on some random planet, unable to continue to Kaon.

If Elizabeth were truly lucky, that would be exactly what happened.

In the meantime, Elizabeth filled the space with her chatter. Mostly neutral subjects. Anything to distract Dreadwing from his grief.

He didn’t speak to her during that time, but he listened. At least, she thought he did. He _looked_ at her from time to time, and to her the action appeared thoughtful.

The entire situation prompted her to speak on a subject she hadn’t spoken to another living soul about in quite some time: her own family.

She never gave any names or distinguishing features, wouldn’t risk it. Sure, she’d changed her family name when she left Earth all those years ago, rewrote her whole history, and covered her tracks before she commissioned her first job, which involved extracting extortion information about some up-and-coming Senator on a planet she’d had to travel through a wormhole to get to.

Maybe with anyone else in Dreadwing’s position, she would have been more lax, would have told him more definitive details about her own brilliant, clever, irreplaceable brother. But she told him what she needed to in order to show how much she _understood_. If anything ever happened to him, she’d stand up against any warlord, would tear down an entire galaxy, too, if need be.

But bounty hunter or no, Dreadwing was still a Decepticon, and within the Decepticon ranks was the one being who still struck fear into her, who had found her in their systems so quickly, so effortlessly, who had managed to tell Megatron about Skyquake’s fate even before Dreadwing could.

A being she now knew was called Soundwave.

Even his _name_ sent chills creeping down her spine in a spider-walk.

While he still lived, she wouldn’t divulge _anything_ concrete about her family, wouldn’t _dare_.

But though she was pouring with honesty and sincerity, for hours _at least_ , Dreadwing still said nothing.

Elizabeth tried valiantly not to take it so personally, not to treat it as a total failure when she went to sleep that night, leaving Dreadwing to pilot the ship alone.

* * *

She managed to catch a few hours’ sleep before she found herself waking up again.

Her head felt stuffy and achy, her thoughts scattered and erratic. Elizabeth knew she was in a bad state, knew that it would be better to just stay in bed and breathe, but she rose anyway and quickly left her quarters, knowing just as well that sleep would elude her.

Elizabeth remembered now why she never talked about her family.

She’d had that dream again, the one where her brother broke the news to their family that he was leaving for Mars to join a team of top engineers. They would be instrumental in building and constructing more civilization on the red planet, leading to more Earthlings being able to move there after the damage Earth had suffered when the Decepticons came. She’d remembered smiling, crying alongside their mom in pure happiness, gushing about how she couldn’t wait to come see it, to see all his work when he was finished.

It had been a lie in the dream just as it’d been in reality. She hadn’t been there to see it, hadn’t even been there to see him leave. She had left Earth for her first job that very next day.

Elizabeth had never expected to contract a high-profile job like that so soon, hadn’t figured that the feelers for work she’d sent out would be found by someone in a faraway galaxy. She thought she would have to build her reputation first, work small jobs remotely from Earth in her own galaxy before she earned enough money to travel off-world independently. But this guy had offered to cover all expenses, _and_ her payoff besides. Not one to be manipulated, she deftly researched to make sure the job was legitimate.

The one good thing about the Decepticons making contact with Earth was all the alien technology and information they had brought with them, how Earth’s own information superhighway had expanded with it. Still, Elizabeth spent hours translating and piecing together enough information about her client’s alien world and its political climate—a limitation of her ability with alien technology without the use of a universal translator—but she’d done it.

And it proved true purely because of her client’s own desperation. He’d needed somebody unknown to perform the task, somebody without ties to him, without notoriety, who could come and go with all the anonymity and mysteriousness of a sudden storm.

Elizabeth had no doubts about her own capability, so she’d accepted, not knowing that he expected her to leave immediately, already procuring a ship for her uses. But she _had_ to take it, she _had to_. When would an opportunity this good come to her again? When would she be able to afford a ship, a universal translator, and all the technical equipment she needed to do her work in earnest?

She disappeared without a trace, her family never knowing what she had left home to do, not even her brother, though she knew he’d suspected something. Though she was careful to make sure they knew she was alive and acting by her own free will, the written words she’d left about getting ahead and avenging their world rang more and more hollow with time. Her brother was the one who was saving lives and changing the world, not her. With the intelligence and notoriety that _did_ eventually come with her handle, the Extractor, with the high-profile jobs, the thrills, and the payload, she’d lost that vision so early on, so easily. Not even her attempts to be that strange cross between a space pirate and an intergalactic Robin Hood had changed that.

That’s why she’d jumped to take this job. To steal from the Decepticons at last would be an honor and a privilege, not to mention her endgame, her goal. But she hadn’t taken the usual precautions she would have when accepting a new job and now… Now, she was in an impossible situation.

But then, she hadn’t counted on Dreadwing, hadn’t counted on what seeing him would do. She supposed there would have been no real way to account for that.

Entering the cockpit, Elizabeth found it was empty. Dreadwing was finally sleeping, or whatever he called it. The ship moved steadily, not at warp speed but on autopilot.

She stood there in the center of the room, its structures towering around her, and flexed her hands restlessly, small and uncertain.

Did she dare…?

Before she could talk herself out of it, Elizabeth placed a hand at the base of the console, closed her eyes, and allowed her mind to stretch.

The ship responded back instantly and surprised her; it was a loquacious one. She expected it to be stoic like its pilot, all basic facts and processes and nothing more. But, she supposed, it had a lot of information to convey.

The first and foremost was that it was _tired_ and _strained_ , and Elizabeth knew instantly that she had been close to the truth; the Energon it needed was being consumed at a much larger rate than expected, going towards fueling much more than just the warp drive but rather many other, little processes where regular ship’s fuel would have sufficed.

Elizabeth snorted to herself, eyes still closed. Looks like the Cogs had done Dreadwing a disservice with a setup like this. She could fix the distribution if she wanted to. It would only take a simple mental command on her part, but why should she? They weren’t facing a life-threatening situation if she didn’t.

And for all her joking, Elizabeth _really_ didn’t want to go to Kaon.

Passing over that, she delved deeper, flying past code and computer languages she could decipher if she had a mainframe to dump them into. Her ability had funny limitations like that, but it was also the reason she was so highly coveted. How many contracts had she signed, swearing not to even _look_ at stolen information before it was delivered straight to her client’s hands? How much damage had she done to others by not uploading and viewing the damning intel on her computer screen first before she made the drop?

It was such a good thing for them that all she had to do was _ask_ , like searching for keywords, and the computer would find it for her, would guide her to it; if she couldn’t do that, it would be almost impossible to do her job with a stipulation like that, anyway.

With a bitter twist of her lips, Elizabeth realized there’d been no contract signed with that stipulation for _this_ job. She could have seen just what she’d snatched from the Decepticons before she delivered it, would have done so, too, _if she’d only had the time_.

She could do it now, she realized. She could upload it into the ship while Dreadwing slept, see just what she was going to Kaon for, then send it out to every avenue she could, to every corner of the galaxy, she could—

Elizabeth jerked herself out of it when she got to the ship’s transmission log, felt just how _real_ the last message to Lord Megatron, to _Kaon_ , was.

_Soundwave has just alerted me to that fact._

With a snap akin to dumping ice water on herself, her eyes opened, her mind her own again, not shared with digital code and anyone else who could be watching.

And she knew Soundwave was watching, had no doubt that he was monitoring the ship even now. She’d felt the tracking beacon installed on it, how effortless it would be for him to locate.

With a shudder, Elizabeth leaned against the co-pilot’s seat, getting a handle on herself. She couldn’t upload that info, couldn’t even send it out somewhere without Soundwave knowing about it and stopping it. If she was going to do it, it would have to be by other means, on a network or device he didn’t have direct access to.

Dammit, she couldn’t even _control_ the ship’s movements, tell it where to go or what to do, without him having all the information _right there_ to figure out what had happened. And she could _not_ have her gift out in the open like that. She rarely had clients who questioned how she could do the things she did. Everyone just assumed she was a hacker prodigy; she’d prefer to keep it that way.

Raising a hand to move her hair off her forehead, Elizabeth realized she was sweating. Shakily, she left the cockpit, wondering if the ship had a shower, kicking herself for not searching for any blueprints of the ship’s layout while she’d had the chance. Sure, breaking into ATMs and personal computers was easier than a military ship, and normally she relished any kind of challenge, but Soundwave’s presence hovering omnisciently over her was enough to make her pause. The promise of death brushed against her every time she was in his digital space, as light and playful as a cat. It made her ill, made it painful for her to breathe.

This wasn’t the first situation, Elizabeth discovered, where she wished her ability extended to talking to and controlling _living_ , sentient machines as well as artificial ones, but at least an entire world wasn’t crashing down around her this time.

Just her own.

* * *

The next morning, Dreadwing had no idea about the conflict his mark had undergone the night before, and Elizabeth gave no sign of it, just as he gave no further signs of how deeply he mourned his twin. How that night had been the first he’d fallen into recharge and not felt Skyquake do the same, no matter the distance between them. No, the thief was her normal, casual self, right down to talking his ear off before ten o’clock.

The difference was, this time, the Con actually talked back.

“And how _does_ one become—to use your charming term—a hacktivist?” It sounded so absurd to him, he scarcely believed he was asking.

Palmer's face fell into a blank mask, her lips settled in a flat and serious line. She looked as if the fate of the universe was hinged upon this one confession, the revealing of which would leave everything forever and irrevocably changed. Dreadwing himself could feel the tension and felt his frame react in kind. By the time she opened her mouth to speak, he thought his frame had either rusted over or become permanently locked into place.

In a hushed and conspiratorial voice, she said, "I've been running from my past since 1972."

Dreadwing vented in frustration. His frame released from its coiled up state in a crunch of metal.

"I should have known better than to expect a _thief_ to be honest."

Her smile was cat-like, and it made him uneasy. "So I'm _a little_ theatrical. I couldn't help it. You make it too easy.”

She leaned back in her seat, looking far more comfortable than she had any right to be. "The truth of the matter is that mine just isn't that interesting of a story. Or rather, it's been done by loads of others before. Y'know how it is. Introduce a bunch of new worlds and interstellar travel, and home—Earth in my case—just isn't all that interesting anymore." She shrugged. "So I left. Not much more to it than that."

Dreadwing wasn’t exactly born yesterday. There was _much more_ to it than that.

“And where are your parents and this so-called perfect brother you’ve spoken of?”

He’d noticed how she’d avoided mentioning their names the day before, noticed how careful she was. Begrudgingly, he acknowledged that she still had some sense of loyalty to somebody other than herself. A surprising find in a criminal, especially one who made her livelihood by stealing. Her flippant answer proved that he’d have to try much harder if he was going to get any incriminating information out of her. “Dunno. Earth or Mars, probably. Or maybe they meant to shock me and moved to Venus instead.”

Dreadwing was about to come up with an undoubtedly clever retort when the familiar sound of an incoming transmission pinged through the air.

“Great, what now?” Palmer said, crossing her arms and legs, looking distinctly annoyed at the interruption.

Dreadwing watched her with ill-placed amusement, but frowned when he saw what the message’s point of origin was.

Kaon.                    

“Well, that’s not good,” Palmer said, following his line of sight. “I wouldn’t answer it, if I were you.”

“If you were me, you wouldn’t be such a coward.”

Not even so much as a dent in her composure. He had to give her credit for that, though her lack of conscience could never be mistaken for his sense of honor.

“But what if it’s Megatron?” Her eyes shown with concern. Concern for _him_ , he realized. Dreadwing tensed. This creature confused him.

“That’s _Lord_ Megatron to you,” he intoned severely. “And if it is, I will simply plead my case once more. He has been known to make concessions, though they’ve been few.”

The thief didn’t look convinced in the slightest. For some reason, that rankled Dreadwing.

So much so that he answered the transmission without checking for the sender.

When he saw the Con that greeted him on the screen, he wished he _had_ checked. He would have followed Palmer’s advice then and ignored it.

“ _Finally_. I do not enjoy being kept waiting, Dreadwing.” The voice was gravely but dripping with slyness. From the corner of his optics, Dreadwing saw Palmer sit up a little straighter in attention.

“Starscream,” Dreadwing replied, matching the Decepticon’s Second-in-Command sneer for sneer. “I have nothing further to add to my report. You can inform Lord Megatron that—”

“Lord Megatron is _not_ happy with you, Dreadwing. Not happy at all,” Starscream interrupted smugly, flexing those claw mods of his that Dreadwing always thought looked ridiculous.

Though Dreadwing detected a warning in the seeker’s tone, he also noticed how Starscream couldn’t hide his razor sharp smile if he tried. Nor could he resist talking. Dreadwing knew Starscream’s games well, so he let him continue, knowing he would learn something worthwhile eventually. “In fact, there’s been talk of—shall we call it—a _permanent_ change of command? _Such_ an unfortunate situation you’ve found yourself in, Dreadwing. One gets the sense that Lord Megatron wishes it had been _you_ that perished instead of Skyquake.”

Through the rushing in his audial processors, Dreadwing could hardly hear the sound of grinding metal his fists made as he clenched them, completely missed the human’s sharp intake of breath. With considerable effort, he willed his rage away, willed his features into neutrality. He couldn’t let Starscream see how much such a statement affected him. Had to remind himself of how often Starscream lied to manipulate others his way.

Why else would Starscream make contact with him to tell him all of this, if not to manipulate him? Starscream didn’t do _favors_ , not for anyone.

“He _may_ actually go through with it himself if anything happens to that information, you know,” continued Starscream casually.

“I know,” Dreadwing said, hardly perturbed, “which is why I will take every precaution and succeed as I always have, _Commander_.”

Starscream’s optics narrowed, and Dreadwing _hoped_ the use of his title reminded Starscream of all the times _he_ had failed, of all the plotting and the scheming. After all, it wasn’t secret knowledge that the Air Commander used to be part of a trine…

“Yes, well, I suppose that means you’ll have no problems with surrendering the Palmer girl once our forces intercept you?”

Dreadwing went utterly still, absorbing all the meanings hidden within that one sentence, all the mistrust, the urgency, the line of treason that he seemed to now be walking with Decepticon high command.

Then he smiled.

* * *

From Elizabeth’s vantage point, Dreadwing’s smile was the scariest thing she had ever seen. How this Starscream guy wasn’t recoiling at the sight of it, she had no idea.

Of course, she also had no idea why she was so embarrassingly drawn to it. The cruelty of it, the pain it promised, the sheer self-assured confidence.

That last bit had to be it.

Plus, after what Starscream’d said about Skyquake, after seeing how clearly Dreadwing was rattled by it, Elizabeth _really_ wanted this smug bastard to be put in his place, and that smile told her that Dreadwing was about to deliver, one way or another.

“Lord Megatron is sending my own seekers after me, or are they yours, Starscream? As I can only believe that _you_ planted such an idea in his head in the first place.”

Elizabeth watched, fascinated, as Starscream’s wings snapped down, his mouth twisting in what she took to be offense.

“I’ll have you know that _both_ of us have seekers as part of the search party!” His voice jumped up an octave from the low register at which it was once so comfortable. Elizabeth hid her smile with her hand. Definitely offense. His voice dropped to a growl again. “And loathe though I am to agree with any of your methods, I _also_ strongly advised Lord Megatron _against_ this course of action!”

Starscream was the one rattled now. That had been agonizingly easy.

“And yet, here you are telling me about it, eliminating the element of surprise.” Dreadwing raised an eyebrow. “What do you want, Starscream? My silence?”

“That certainly goes without saying,” the seeker laughed, as if he’d done this sort of thing before and was pleased with the outcome every time. “But more than that, Dreadwing, I want your support.”

“Concerning what?”

“Hmm, I’ll be _sure_ to let you know.”

That didn’t sound good to Elizabeth. And from the curl of his mouth and the way his red optics glared, it sounded utterly unappealing to Dreadwing, too. But then, this whole conversation was putting her on edge. There was so much being said, so much _not_ being said, that she didn’t understand.

Starscream wasn’t done. “I _sincerely_ hope that, wherever you find Skyquake, you’ll find more than just his corpse. Even with the recovered data, Lord Megatron won’t be so generous if you’ve caused all this trouble for nothing.”

Dreadwing’s frame was rigid, but his voice was steady. “I am certain those rebels did not kill him. Two of them appeared human, at least, but the woman was a Venusian. Still not enough to bring down a warrior like Skyquake. I think we both know who is more likely to be responsible.”

Elizabeth was listening, but she was also reeling from that new bit of information. Hera was from Venus? And Kelvin and Fitz were native Earthlings just like Elizabeth was. Well, she had suspected that last part, obviously, more from Kelvin’s slip up mentioning _Star Wars_ than anything else (she knew better than to judge these things based on appearance alone). But still, it put some things in perspective. More and more evidence pointed to her companions being actual rebels.

Venus had been hit bad by the Decepticons. Not as badly as Earth, their population and civilization not as large, but still. Blood had been shed, lives were still lost. Mythologies and histories all pointed at Mars as being the god of war, but that had been before anyone had seen the Venusians fight, their lithe builds hiding surprising power.

And if any people could rival the sense of vengeance Elizabeth witnessed on Earth, it would be theirs.

“That’s her there, isn’t it? Our little data thief?”

Feeling that she was being talked about, Elizabeth snapped to attention, only to lock eyes with an interested Starscream, present digitally but separated physically by millions of miles of space, thank God.

For a moment, they both just assessed each other. Elizabeth felt Dreadwing’s gaze boring into her, but she refused to break contact with Starscream. She just stared coolly back, figuring Starscream out. Finally, Elizabeth smiled cheekily at him, breaking whatever stalemate had been between them, and waved.

When Starscream’s eyes followed her unbound wrists and he flashed her and Dreadwing a smirk that was still half a sneer, Elizabeth got the acute sense that her last action had been a mistake.

“Yes, _do_ take good care of your little human, Dreadwing. In my experience, I’ve found these fleshlings to have their uses. If nothing else, they can be such _amusing_ distractions.”

From his end, Starscream cut off the transmission, not allowing Dreadwing to get another word in or question what he meant.

In her head, Elizabeth kept replaying what he’d said over and over again, feeling her face grow hot. If it was with anger, embarrassment, or something else, she didn’t particularly want to examine. Dreadwing held her in contempt, sure, but that was because of her profession, not because of her race. He’d never treated her like Starscream had just described, like a _plaything._

Regardless, her heart sunk, remembering just how much the Decepticons _had_ played with humanity all those years ago, how they still treated their conquered nations. Starscream’s opinion was clearly the majority’s.

Would Dreadwing really prove to be any different in the end?

It was with no little surprise that he refused to talk to her anymore, taking what Starscream had said with his own brand of seriousness. It was just as well.

They were coming up fast on their destination, to the planet where Skyquake was last known to be alive. She watched it loom ever closer before them, a teal-colored sphere with large patches of island chains on its surface, the whole thing suspended on a black canvas. A faint white ring glowed around it, helping it stand out in the dark.

Finally, maybe, they would get some answers.


	5. Skyquake

Dreadwing’s ship wasn’t considered overly large, even by freighter standards, but finding a place to land proved tricky. What little land there was on the planet was predominately marshlands, and it was there where Dreadwing estimated Skyquake had met his end. Looking out the viewport, Elizabeth couldn’t hide her grimace.

“Yoda would feel right at home here,” she muttered.

“And who is this Yoda?” Dreadwing said, his voice cutting in unexpectedly. “Another criminal acquaintance of yours? A filthy rebel?”

“He’s a _Star Wars_ character. Remind me to show you sometime.” Elizabeth paused from indulging in the hilarious mental imagery, taking in Dreadwing’s appearance. His sword was slung across his back again, and in addition, he was priming a large blaster cannon, one she’d never seen before. He didn’t look like he was just going to find a fallen warrior, a comrade-in-arms; he was prepared to find a fight waiting for him as well. “Remind me, also,” she said with a determined, contemplative glint in her eyes, “to tell you about Mandalorians sometime, too.”

“From what I know of you, I doubt you’ll need the reminder.” Dreadwing hoisted the cannon, his movements sure and familiar, as he crossed to the hatch, preparing to disembark the ship. “You’ll tell me regardless.”

Elizabeth slipped down from the co-pilot’s chair and bounded after him. “I’m glad you understand, but first things first.” She came to stand next to him, expectant, as the hatch gave way and the boarding ramp descended. Before she could take a single step forward, Dreadwing said, “You are _not_ coming with me.”

Her head snapped up to look at him. “I most certainly am.”

“No,” he replied with low, blunt force. “You are not. You’re going to stay _here_ until I return.”

Elizabeth crossed her arms and attempted to stare him down. “If you’re worried that I’ll try to escape, I won’t. I wouldn’t do that, Dreadwing. Not here, not now. And I won’t get in the way, either. I promise.”

He seemed not to hear her, staring out at the open world spilling out from the hatch. “I have to do this alone.”

She bit the inside of her cheek. This was always the tricky side of grief, and normally, Elizabeth would respect Dreadwing’s wishes. But this exact instance was different. He was about to go find his brother’s body, his undoubtedly wounded, lifeless body, and bury it. While the process was something that Dreadwing would have to do by himself, there was absolutely no reason to go through the event alone.

“I can help you.” It was perhaps the most earnest thing she’d said to him thus far, something she meant with her entire being.

She was rewarded for her efforts with a reappearance of those handcuffs that seemed to be a favorite of his, which latched themselves around her wrists with cold finality.

“Stay. Here,” he said, those red optics devoid of emotion, his tone brooking no argument. Then he stepped through the hatch. She stood there, hating every moment as she glimpsed the beginnings of his transformation into his alt-mode. Then the hatch closed, and she rushed over to the viewport, catching only the sight of his contrails as he flew south. He was out of sight in seconds.   

Elizabeth listened as the ship finished its power down sequence, the hums of electricity and energon growing fainter and fainter. Soon, she was left with nothing but the sound of her breathing, its cadence gentle and steady.

For fifteen minutes, Elizabeth tried to be okay about Dreadwing's decision. Respectful.

By the beginning of the sixteenth minute, she was pacing, restless and decidedly _not_ okay with it. She'd barely issued the thought when her restraints unclamped themselves and fell with a metallic clatter to the floor, their lights flickering then fading as they powered down, lifeless. Marching up to the hatch's locking mechanism, she placed a hand on it, mentally searching for the code to open the door. A few seconds later, the hatch reopened, and she stood looking out into open planet and all its dark green, marshy glory.

Elizabeth frowned.

Right. Marshlands.

She paused at the threshold, glancing back at the ship's control panel, wondering if she should just commandeer the ship and fly it to Dreadwing's current position. She certainly knew she could, and if this were any other ship, she probably would have done exactly that. But how was she supposed to explain how a human could fly a ship by herself when it was meant for someone the size of a Cybertronian? It presented far too many questions, and Elizabeth was certain Dreadwing would ask them.

She liked Dreadwing, but not enough to betray her only trump card to him. Not yet.

It spoke to the kind of person she was that not once did she contemplate stealing the ship for her own uses, choosing to abandon Dreadwing here while she made her escape along with the stolen data. Doing so might have been the smarter decision, but it wasn’t the ethical one.

Yes, despite everything she’d done, Elizabeth Palmer had a conscience, and that still small voice inside her really wasn’t small at all, but was rather loud and _very_ insistent. And downright inconvenient.

Besides, the ship was being tracked, just as Dreadwing was, from Cybertron. If she chose to ran, she likely wouldn’t be running for long before the pursuit began again. No, it was better for her to wait and act when she was absolutely certain other rebels were nearby, where maybe she could pass off the information to one of them. Maybe she still had a change to do some good.

In the meantime… In the meantime, she would focus on Dreadwing. He was a Decepticon and a bounty hunter, but the more she saw of him, the more she got the feeling that he was something…else. Something more.

And she’d gotten this far by following her instincts. She wasn’t about to lose trust in them now.

Examining the direction in which he'd flown, Elizabeth extended her senses outward. She couldn't control living machines, true, but with her ability, she could sense them.

Dreadwing's particular electronic aura, warped though it was with the energon factor, came to her within a few heartbeats, a single pinpoint of light in the dark. And from what she could tell, he was the only machine or machine-like being online on this side of the planet, perhaps on all of it. If they had landed somewhere as busy as Cog or on Cybertron's surface itself, it would have been a much, much harder process for Elizabeth to pinpoint on her own, without any technological help, and taken _much_ longer.

Still, though. As useful as her ability was to sense anything in the digital realm, it offered her nothing in regards to sensing indigenous, organic beings. Turning back into the ship, she booted up the main console and talked to it briefly in stand-by mode. It was all too willing to tell her where Dreadwing had stashed her blasters, so she could power it back down again and to stop wasting energon, there wasn’t enough to go around as it was.

Moody thing.

Now armed and determined, Elizabeth stepped down the ramp leading into the marshes, her steps light and probing. She didn't much feel like a mud bath today or seeing if leeches were a part of the native fauna. Even with her careful efforts, travel was slow-going.

_Dreadwing may find and bury Skyquake before I can even get there_ , she thought morosely. No. Not if she could help it. She tried to quicken her pace, her right foot slipping out from under her briefly, leaving her shoe halfway covered in mud as the reward for her efforts. Slow and steady it was, then.

Immediately to the south was a huge expanse of mossy forest, dark and foggy, the vines of the trees long and dangling. They looked similar to weeping willows, but Elizabeth couldn’t readily identify them. Plants weren’t her strong suit.

Gradually, she made her way to the tree line of the forest, hoping that the marshes would thicken and dry up to become stable, hard land. They did not. But the forest presented her with other advantages to make up for it. Large boulders jutted out of the marsh, the willow-like trees’ vines were strong and ropey, and the deeper she peered into the forest, the more she could make out trees of all shapes and sizes, strong-limbed and interweaving with each other.

And Elizabeth was an excellent climber.

* * *

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been in the forest. When she and Dreadwing had landed on the planet, it had been early light, but it was dark in the canopy of the woods, and it had been a while since she’d seen any sunlight peek its way through.

Instead of panicking, Elizabeth focused on the task at hand. Grabbing that vine, hoisting her way over to that limb, dropping down to the next one, swinging over to the next tree, always moving, always following Dreadwing’s electronic aura.

It hadn’t moved, not by much anyway. A few degrees here and there but now it was steady, sedentary. Which meant he hadn’t flown back to the ship to discover her gone, wasn’t combing the planet looking for her, or, worse, hadn’t just abandoned her on an uninhabited planet to die alone on its mass. The latter really didn’t seem like Dreadwing’s style—he struck her as the type that always finished what he started—but she couldn’t help but contemplate the possibility.

Finally, the trees started to thin, and weak sunlight speckled here and there on the surface of the tree trunks, the leaves, the ground, casting more shadows than providing any real light. Midday, by her reckoning, and her stomach gave a sudden rumble to confirm that assumption. She hadn’t eaten anything since just before they landed here, and she was starting to regret being so hasty to leave that she only packed her blasters—which she had yet to use—instead of any foodstuffs.

There was nothing for it, and she wasn’t about to eat any strange, unidentified plants, either. The best thing to do was to just find Dreadwing.

But the trees were far more spaced out now, and unable to make any further progress, Elizabeth was forced to abandon the high ground the limbs offered her. She climbed down to the forest floor, black mud squelching beneath her shoes. There was still marshlands here, but she could make out a clearer, twisting path between them now, even though the underbrush was thick and deceptive. She wound her way through it, each step conscientious of her goal to keep going south, keep going until she found Dreadwing, until she found—

Elizabeth rounded the trunk of a broad tree and stopped as she took in the damage. Branches and entire trees were torn off and lying in haphazard shreds of debris throughout the forest. Scorch marks, burnt bark, and other defacements that could only come from blaster fire painted a grim picture of what had happened here, and as Elizabeth spotted all the shredded, kicked-up grass, the large tracks and gashes in the dirt and mud, she knew. A battle had taken place here.

It had been recent, but it hadn’t happened today. Whatever fires had been started had been dealt with by the damp and the mist, the flames unable to spread further and damage more of the wood. So instead of being full of the sounds of crackling flames, the forest was utterly silent, even devoid of wildlife.

The moment she noticed the quiet was when it changed. From closer than she’d ever expected, a pained, rage-filled roar of anguish ripped through the forest, echoing off every surface, every crevice, and Elizabeth was shaken by the force of it.

Even before the echoes began to die away, she was running towards the source. Towards Dreadwing. Water and mud kicked up around her, staining her clothes; she didn’t care.

She found him in a small clearing, alone and unharmed.

Her heart pounding in her throat, her breathing erratic—not from the run here but from pure fear—Elizabeth closed her eyes in relief against all the mental scenarios she’d pictured on the way here. For a moment, she thought the sound had meant something else, had meant that maybe he’d been attacked, that maybe the rebels were still here, somewhere. She was on the rebels’ side, it was true, but the thought of him being hurt—she couldn’t stand it. Didn’t even want to _think_ of it.

But then she opened her eyes again and truly beheld him.

Dreadwing was kneeling on both knees at the clearing’s center. A sword that wasn’t his was clasped by the hilt in his mud-covered servos, and he held the blade against his forehead, his optics closed. A goodbye. What could only be an open grave was gaping large and terrible before him. Elizabeth couldn’t see inside, but she knew Skyquake rested there, could read the mournful silence in the air, the guilt, the regret.

Intruding, that’s what she was doing here. This was so personal, so private; why did she ever think she had a right to be here? That he would need or want her here? She should go back, or at least recede a bit more into the trees, wait until he was finished, wait until he buried his brother before trying to talk to him.

But even before she took a step back, before the wild grass rustled under her foot, Dreadwing’s optics opened, he lowered the sword, and turned his head to pin her in place.

He wasn’t the least bit surprised to see her. Elizabeth read it on his face clearly, not even detecting any anger, only—resignation.

For a moment, they just watched each other, unmoving.

Finally, he asked, “How did you get here?” He spoke in quiet respectfulness of the dead, but his voice carried easily to her, cleaving through the silence.

“I’m a thief, remember?” Elizabeth approached him warily, his frame still towering above her even as he remained kneeling. When nothing happened, she knelt beside him, her posture similar to his own, taking her back to karate lessons with her father and brother so very long ago, and the thought was so striking she felt her throat close up, felt herself struggling for words. What was she doing, thinking of her family while his was gone? How could she be humoring the idea of training with him, fighting _alongside_ him instead of against him when he was in such pain, no matter how well he tried to hide it in her presence? She let the cold, wet marsh soak into her pants, bringing her back fully to the present, anchoring her. Around the lump in her throat, she finally said, “We’re notorious for getting out of tight spots.”

“You’ve been able to break out of those shackles this whole time, haven’t you?” He tilted his head to look at her, but she couldn’t look away from the grave, from Skyquake. “You didn’t need me to remove them after all.”

Their game of cat and mouse on Cog had only been a few days ago, but it felt much longer. And when she’d first met Dreadwing, met Skyquake… He seemed so much larger than life then. They both had. No matter what her opinion of them was, these living machines, these Cybertronians, never failed to inspire a sense of awe in her. Seeing Skyquake prone and lifeless in the ground, his impressive, green frame no more remarkable than a long-outdated computer model, seemed so _wrong_ to her.

She couldn’t imagine how Dreadwing must feel.

“I didn’t know,” Elizabeth said gently, “that Cybertronians had any kind of burial rites.”

She wouldn’t add that she’d never seen one die with her own eyes. That even when they took over her planet and faced the wrath of the entire world’s military and then some that she’d never seen any of them retrieve their fallen dead or pay any kind of respects. Maybe it was a Decepticon thing to mourn in private, if they mourned at all. Or maybe not. She only had Dreadwing’s example to follow, and despite the master he served, despite the cruelty she’d glimpsed, there was something very _un_ -Decepticonlike about him. But she wouldn’t dare bring that theory up now.

She tried to recall more from the grainy television footage she remembered watching on Earth, but truthfully she hadn’t been paying too close attention to them then. As enemies, yes, but not as people.

Dreadwing vented beside her, slow and controlled. When he spoke, his voice held a slight edge of roughness that faded more and more with each word. "Burials occur on Cybertron. It's believed that as our sparks go to join the Allspark upon death, our frames become one with Cybertron and help to restore the planet."

Dreadwing explained in a voice Elizabeth associated with memories of her best teachers: patient, deliberate, more like he was telling a story than imparting a lesson. Her attention didn't once waver. "Tombs were often granted to families of ruling elites or to notable warriors. The Thirteen Primes, for instance."

Elizabeth was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "Skyquake deserves a tomb."

"He does," Dreadwing said, his fists clenching. "On Cybertron, with the rest of the fallen Decepticon commanders. But this mud-filled grave on some distant, unnamed _nothing_ of a planet is all I can do for him now."

Elizabeth stretched forward, placing her knuckles on the back of his hand, both of which were resting on his knees, clutching them. The metal was smooth beneath the mud, neither hot nor cold. It wasn't what she'd consider hand-holding, but it was a point of contact, a source of solid proof that neither of them was alone in the universe, that right now they could depend on each other.

"I'm sure,” she said, “Skyquake is proud enough to know that his brother defied all orders to come out here and find him. That he paid his respects and loved him enough to bequeath to him a final resting place that he made with his own two hands." She pulled her hand back when she finished, already missing the contact, brief though it was. But letting Dreadwing know that he could trust her sincerity was more important than her own needs right now.

Elizabeth didn't know anything about this Allspark or anything much about Cybertronian religion. But she knew hers, and it was with utmost earnestness and respect that she bowed her head and offered a prayer on behalf of Skyquake's soul, wherever it was.

_Eternal rest grant to them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen._

She crossed herself and rose without further ado. She found Dreadwing watching her closely, an inscrutable look on his face. But he asked no questions, and she gave no answers. Instead, she pointed to the tree line and stated, "I'll leave you to it, but I'll be waiting over there if you need me."

Elizabeth waited for his biting response, for his not-so-subtle reminder of his low opinion of her, that he could never need her, a thief and a human, for anything. But Dreadwing only nodded, maintaining an intense sort of eye contact with her. Soon, he turned away and gave his full attention back to Skyquake. Elizabeth excused herself, convinced that she hadn't seen that glimmer of newfound respect towards her in his eyes.


	6. The Heart of the Matter

People dealt with grief in different ways. For the few, unfortunate times Elizabeth had experienced a loss, she valued the alone moments where she could remember a loved one in peace, where she could expend her sadness and grief, and fondly recall happier times. But once that alone time was spent, she yearned for the company of others, was bolstered and uplifted by it.

Dreadwing, it seemed, needed neither of those things. The moment they had returned to his ship, he had receded to his work station, and got serious, focused only on business.

But was it personal or professional?

Perched on a nearby surface, Elizabeth peered at the mechanical object Dreadwing’s servos tinkered with, uncertain. Wires trailed from the object, connected to the ship’s computer. “So that’s…Skyquake’s brain?”

“His processor,” Dreadwing corrected in a neutral tone.

“Oh.” The confirmation left her feeling a little strained. When she had left Dreadwing alone at Skyquake’s grave, she assumed he would pay his final respects, not harvest one of his vital organs. “Is this…normal?”

Dreadwing didn’t answer her question, but the line of his mouth grew thinner. “I doubt those fleshlings were capable of bringing him down. But if I’m going to find any answers, I have to act now.” His optics flashed to her, a dissatisfied frown on his face. Elizabeth thought he was going to say something else, but he went back to his work.

Elizabeth felt restless. In the past hour, Dreadwing had been acting strange. _His twin brother was just killed. How else is he supposed to act?_ But this situation felt different, unrelated to his grief.

“You don’t mind if I watch?” she ventured.

“No.”

She tapped her fingers on her leg. “Not bothering with restraints either, I see.”

“No, and why should I?” His sidelong glance pierced her. “Unless you’d like to demonstrate just how you broke free?”

She shrugged. “Just some simple lock-picking. Nothing interesting.”

“Just as well." Dreadwing went back to his work. Elizabeth got the distinct impression he was very deliberately not looking at her. "We'll have plenty of time for answers when we reach Kaon."

She felt a pang at his words, something that felt like pain, disappointment, fear, and guilt all at once. "Are you sure you should even go back?" She remembered Starscream's warning. _Lord Megatron is_ not _happy with you, Dreadwing. Not happy at all._ And though she didn't trust Starscream a wit, the truth in those words was undeniable. Elizabeth couldn't help feeling partially responsible for egging Dreadwing on, watching him put himself in the path of the galaxy's most powerful tyrant and his sense of retribution. And now that he'd started, Dreadwing seemed unlikely to alter his course. _Just how far do you intend to go?_

"I assure you, human," Dreadwing said, answering both her earlier and unspoken questions at once, "there's no place I'd rather go. But first—"

The ship's computer emitted a series of beeps, and Elizabeth was caught between fascination and resignation as a variety of images flashed to life on the monitor. Readouts appeared in Cybertronian, which should could understand if spoken thanks to her translator, but reading or speaking it was beyond her. The best she could do would be to ask the computer directly for a translation, which she dared not do in front of present company. Dreadwing's servos tapped a few keys on the console before adjusting something on Skyquake's processor.

In the center of the screen, a window opened, overlapping power level readouts, diagnostics, and other minutiae.

Blackness at first, but then the image flickered like eyes that were opening then closing. No, not like _eyes_. Like optics, and they were currently looking through Skyquake's.

Elizabeth sat up straighter and gave the screen her full attention. She felt more than saw Dreadwing doing the same.

As if someone had lowered the contrast and saturation, the colors Skyquake saw were muted but not grainy, and there was sound but it seemed far away, almost disjointed with the action happening around it. It wasn't like looking at old family movies at home, dulled from time or video quality. This was the result of energon remnants, she realized. What was left behind when the spark died. Like shadows burned on the ground after a nuclear explosion, these were Skyquake's final moments that lingered, not yet having time to vanish forever.

But they would once the energon was spent, and the processor, growing weaker by the second, was left with nothing to power it. Now she understood why Dreadwing had to move quickly.

Trees flew past Skyquake in a blur of jade green motion. In the distance and closing was a small freighter trailing smoke. With a jolt, Elizabeth recognized it, having been aboard it as a desperate passenger not so long ago.

With smooth finesse, Skyquake brought the ship down with a single red jet of light. The ship banked sharply down, crashing into a series of trees before landing in the center of a large marsh.

_Hera and the others were brought down here_ , Elizabeth thought, her jaw clenched. She thought she also recognized those trees, having climbed and maneuvered past them trying to find Dreadwing. But then, where was their ship? She remembered the damage the crash must have left behind, but she hadn't caught sight of it nor of any remains. Including those of the passengers.

She got her answer why in moments. The ship began to sink beneath the marshlands, too heavy to float. Suddenly, trees, sky, and ground flipped end-over-end of each other, and then Skyquake landed, his gaze honed in on the ship.

Waiting for any survivors to emerge.

An escape hatch was kicked open, and Hera fought her way out, the battered Venusian dragging an unconscious Fitz out with her. The woman was strong, but even her alien strength couldn't stand against a fully armed, healthy Cybertronian, and she knew it. It was in the widening of her eyes as they locked with Skyquake's optics, but she hid her fear quickly behind a defiant glare and a snarl of hatred. She shouted something, but her words were muted. Skyquake did not respond, choosing instead to watch her stumble from the ship, carrying Fitz's dead weight with her.

Kelvin did not emerge, and he would not. The marshlands claimed the ship and his life for its own.

Hera laid Fitz down, finding a dry patch of land, then stood her ground, a blaster in hand. She'd come out fighting, and she'd go down that way, too.

Skyquake took a step forward, no sign of hesitation or misgiving. At that moment, many things happened at once.

A flash of teal erupted somewhere to the right of Skyquake, and his gaze flew toward it. Elizabeth got the sight of what looked like a portal before a figure swiftly emerged from it, a blur of Easter yellow and graying black. Forced back, Skyquake blocked a series of punches, and despite the rapid movements, Elizabeth noted the obviously Cybertronian form of his new opponent as well as their notably blue optics, appearing like two robin's eggs in a nest of metal.

Dreadwing noticed, too. "The Scout," he hissed in a hard voice, like a blade being sharpened on a whetstone.

"Who is—?" But Elizabeth didn't get a chance to finish her question because the scale tipped again, and not in Skyquake’s favor.

Hera took aim and fired.

She missed, but her actions distracted Skyquake whose optics flew straight to her instead of keeping her on the periphery of his vision. Now, more Cybertronians had emerged from the portal and surrounded the organics in a protective barrier. One was much smaller than the others, her colors the same muted blue and white with highlights of light pink. She cradled Fitz in her hands and shouted something to Hera. The Venusian nodded and followed the blue Cybertronian into the portal where they vanished.

The other three Cybertronians, one round and jade green, the second a blue, yellow, and white, and the third standing tall in a vision of blue with red finishes and impossibly high shoulder guards, opened fire on Skyquake. They all had blue optics and a symbol emblazoned on their chestplates. It was not the emblem of the Decepticons.

Being hopelessly outnumbered, Skyquake transformed and took to the air.

Or he tried to. In the chaos and confusion, he'd lost sight of the Scout.

The mistake proved fatal. Skyquake's frame jerked and jolted like something had landed heavily on him and he was trying to shake it. Flashes of yellow. The screech of metal scraping against metal. And then the sudden earsplitting bolt of blaster fire.

Skyquake's optics went dead.

The sudden silence that slammed into the cockpit was worse than the one Elizabeth had met when she'd found Dreadwing kneeling over his brother's grave. It was even worse than the noise of grief, the panic in Dreadwing's voice when he first lost Skyquake's signal, worse than the slam of his fist against the console.

Because with this silence came the pain of knowing, of understanding. These were the Autobots, the group she'd stolen the data for in the first place, and now they were the same group who had taken Dreadwing's family from him.

All of this had been set in motion because of her. Because she'd chosen to go with Dreadwing instead of staying with the group, because she'd chosen to flee Cybertron with others instead of working alone like usual, because she'd taken the wrong approach to steal from the Decepticons without learning Soundwave’s full capabilities first.

Because she'd accepted the job before she was ready.

"I suppose I should thank you, Palmer." Dreadwing's voice lashed through the silence, cleaving it in two like a whip on skin. Elizabeth couldn't stop herself from wincing. "Because of you, I now have confirmation that not only do some of our old foes from the war still survive but also who they are and that they're somewhere close by. Their GroundBridge capabilities are only so effective." He gave a bitter laugh. " _Ultra Magnus_. They would elect _you_ as leader after the late Prime."

GroundBridges? The late Prime? Elizabeth was having a hard time keeping up. Despite conquering most of the known galaxy, Cybertronians were notorious for keeping the nuances of their culture, history, and technology to themselves. "Who is Ultra Magnus? The Scout?"

Dreadwing's glare was withering. He began unplugging Skyquake's processor. "No. He was the tall Wrecker who fired from a distance, too cowardly to face Skyquake directly. My brother's murderer is named Bumblebee."

Elizabeth's surprise that he actually answered her question quickly gave way to another form of surprise. _Bumblebee?_ There was a real Cybertronian with the name Bumblebee?

Were there _bees_ on Cybertron, then? Giant, mechanical bees with stingers that fired lasers, perhaps? She decided now wasn't the best time to ask.

"So you think they're still somewhere on the planet?"

"Unlikely. I imagine they GroundBridged here using the _Ark_. They'll have moved to a hidden base by now, somewhere within the surrounding systems." He raised a brow at her. "Thought you could find them and make a quick escape?"

"Believe it or not, I'm just trying to understand. I don't know a GroundBridge from London Bridge. We don't have those on Earth, and I'm guessing you didn't share them with any of your other conquests either."

"Nor with our allies."

Elizabeth crossed her arms. "So is that how you do it, how you conquer other worlds and react to attacks halfway across the galaxy so quickly? You GroundBridge your troops in?"

"Not at all." Dreadwing gently set aside the processor. Then his servos were busy at the console again. "We use SpaceBridges for that. A GroundBridge will only work if it's in a certain range near or located on a single planet."

Elizabeth deflated, but she tried not to show it. So that's how they'd done it, how they had conquered Earth. She remembered the reports. NASA, Roscosmos, CNSA, they had all reported seeing nothing of the Decepticon invasion forces before they'd surged, seemingly out of nowhere, from the far side of the moon. But now she had the answer. They had merely journeyed to her planet from Cybertron using a SpaceBridge. Simple if inelegant genius.

"What are you doing now?” she asked. “Penning an eloquent letter to Megatron, hoping to buy clemency with new information?"

The ship pinged a query. Dreadwing answered in Cybertronian _. Narrow search to these parameters_. 

To her, he responded, "I don't think Lord Megatron will be satisfied with _information_. But their heads should do."

"You mean…" Elizabeth's eyes darted to the screen, which was now pulling up what looked like frequencies. "Oh, don't tell me… You're going to look for the Autobots now? By yourself?"

"And make the same mistake Skyquake did? I'm not a fool, Palmer. There are other ways to draw them out and isolate one from their numbers, and the answer lies here. Rebels are notorious for hiding embedded messages in official briefings. If there's one here that can lead me to my prey, I will find it."

Elizabeth scrunched her brows in confusion. "But the Autobots don't send messages from inside the system. They can't. Unless… You're not looking for Autobot frequencies at all?"

Dreadwing nodded, following her train of thought. "They came to aid their fellow rebels. Who's to say they won't again if given the proper motivation? All I have to do is find a trail that they will likely follow also."

"Well, it's still better than Kaon, I guess." She waited a few beats. "I'm still sorry about Skyquake, by the way."

An indecipherable look appeared on the seeker's face, but he only said, "I see." They both knew it was just a way to fill the silence, that he _didn't_ see where she was coming from at all.

Elizabeth took a breath and kept going. "I still don't align with the Decepticon cause, and I won't apologize for the Autobots. But I _am_ sorry that… That you lost him like this." Her words were a broken glass upon the floor, sharp shards and pieces scattered everywhere, ready to cut and hurt if picked up the wrong way.

But also ready to soothe, cool to the touch, inspiring a message of taking greater care for next time.

Dreadwing did not thank her, and she did not expect or want him to. But he did say, "He died for the cause, a warrior's death. I couldn't ask or hope for more, and nor could he."

The bridge of understanding between them made her smile, but she held it in. She didn't smile, because she wanted to tear the bridge down with her bare hands. Not burn, she didn't want any bridges burned between them. But she hated this divide, the fact that even though she had never joined the resistance officially, she could also never be fully on his side because she wasn't a Decepticon sympathizer either. She wanted to yell, to snap him out of it, that these opposing sides only exacerbated the problems, that it was possible to work well outside them toward achieving something better. That she had done so for years and he could, too. In fact, he should, because she saw something in him that was so much better than Autobot or Decepticon. She saw something _more_.

She saw an honorable and good man.

And she couldn't tell him any of this yet because she didn't know how to say it that would make him believe it.

So, she shot a grin at him instead, the first since Skyquake's death. "Who knows? Maybe that fine blue bot won't be too _cowardly_ to come and rescue me. What was his name again? Oh, yeah. Ultra Magnus," she finished, reveling in the syllables on her tongue.

Dreadwing didn't look disapprovingly at her like he normally did. He _frowned_ at her, his frame tense. He was practically simmering with displeasure. Her heart leapt in dawning realization. Did she dare believe it?

"What?" She asked him, beaming. Trying to draw him out.

"For a moment, I thought you possessed a glimmer of honor, but now I'm reminded otherwise."

She laughed. "Why? Because I notice when someone else is attractive? I'm not attached to anyone, so there's no dishonor in looking _. Unless_ ," she drew out with a slow smile, "you only want me to have eyes for you?"

"Don't you?" Dreadwing fired back, his red optics steady and intent on her. "Isn't that why you made it so _I_ would capture you instead of Skyquake?"

"That was a decision you both made, not me."

"One you also designed in your favor and which you don't deny."

Now they were getting to the heart of the matter. Elizabeth tread a little more carefully but was no less brazen in her feelings.

"No, I don't deny it. Guess I just have a thing for the color blue," she said smoothly, her eyes never leaving him. "Why, Dread, I could _swear_ you're jealous."

"It's _Commander Dreadwing_ , fleshling, and you are highly mistaken."

"Before you would have called me delusional, so progress!" Next, she spoke a delicate aside as if she were before a present and waiting audience who was busy watching their drama unfold. "But methinks the Commander doth protest too much."

"Get out," he growled at her, facing the console.

"Fine, as you wish, Commander." Elizabeth shrugged, stood, stretched, and generally made her very slow way out of the cockpit. Dreadwing was all too aware of her progress. She could tell because of how his servos didn’t move an inch to type anything, how he kept his eyes forward with the use of too much willpower. Before she retired to her quarters, she threw over her shoulder, "If you ever realize your feelings for me, you know where to find me."

Her smile never once left her face, not even when the door slid shut with unusual force behind her.

*

A few days passed, and they were some of the loneliest days Elizabeth had ever felt. She had very little to do, and no one to confide in.

She knew that if Dreadwing managed to find other rebels, she could potentially use that chance to escape or even pass on her information to one of them. But both plans had their share of problems and consequences.

She had no doubt that the hunt for her would always be on if she escaped. She would never be able to travel freely in the galaxy again without looking over her shoulder. The Decepticons knew her face now, and their network was large, a web they could cast over countless systems to catch her with. She wouldn't even be able to go back to her family or even contact her brother again, and that was what was most unacceptable.

The other problem with that plan was that Dreadwing would likely be killed for his failure in capturing her and disobeying orders. The guilt of Skyquake's death weighed heavy on her, illogical as it was. She didn't think she could stomach it if Dreadwing's was on her hands, too. It was ridiculous to care what would happen to him, to a bounty hunter and a Decepticon commander of all things, but she did. She hadn't been totally truthful to him about having no attachments. She did have one. A huge, inconvenient one.

So that left her other plan: passing on the data to someone else. She would have to do it discreetly. Dreadwing couldn't know or have any hint of suspicion. But how did she know who to trust? How long would she have time to make a decision if she even had the opportunity?

And if neither option worked—and this was a thought she had needed to have before this but kept avoiding—if she made it to Kaon, how confident was she about finding a way out alive?

It was impossible to plan, all of her ideas were. There were too many variables and unknowns, but she did have a feeling that, if she had any hope of escaping death at Kaon, it would have to rely on the kindness, determination, and bravery of others to get her out.

A light went on in her mind.

Actually, that might work.

She wandered back to the cockpit. Dreadwing was there, as he always was at this time. She wondered when, or if, he ever slept.

“Good morning,” she chirped. “Or maybe good night. I’m not really sure what Earth time it is right now. My clock’s completely off.”

Dreadwing didn’t respond, and that’s when she noticed the set of his shoulders, the determined air he radiated. He was in full-blown work mode.

And then she saw the message on the screen.

She walked forward, began climbing to a higher vantage point. “Did you find something this time?” He’d found a few stray, encrypted messages since he first began his search, but they ended up being too vague, too dated, their point of origin undeterminable. Elizabeth was impressed. Someone out there was earning their cybersecurity paycheck, that was for sure.

This one was a coded message, layered with a universal encryption. Not a bad job, but a hasty one to the trained eye. Elizabeth, however, was not trained, but she’d never had to be. She could decode any message by telling the computer to do it for her.

Luckily, she didn’t have to volunteer her services. Dreadwing had it covered, steadily going line by line.

It was written in a regional dialect she wasn’t too well-versed on. She caught the words _bad_ , _job_ , _running_ , and _sunroom_ before the words as a whole became jumbled up in unfamiliar grammar. And she was pretty sure one of her translations was wrong.

“What does it say?” she asked.

“A call for help,” Dreadwing responded, still typing away. “Apparently, a Decepticon commander is chasing them.”

Elizabeth pursed her lips. “But you’re not chasing anyone right now. Could it be another commander?”

“Possibly,” Dreadwing said, but he didn’t sound convinced.

“Can you trace the source?”

“I’ve tried, to no avail” he said before a tight smile appeared on his face. “The rebels are clever, I’ll give them that. It’s being broadcast as a general frequency message for anyone to pick up if they can crack the code.”

“Maybe Fitz sent it out right before the crash, and it’s still emitting from the ship.” Elizabeth shrugged at the look of disbelief Dreadwing sent her. “What? Okay, maybe it’s unlikely with the ship being sunk under a marsh and all, but Fitz is extremely capable. I only knew him for a few days, and I can tell you that much.”

Dreadwing tapped a few commands on the screen. “Regardless, the how or where doesn’t matter so much as the what. Look,” he ended with a mocking note. A series of numbers appeared on the screen. “Your friend delivered us coordinates. To a rendezvous point.”

Elizabeth watched as he brought up a star map, saw the coordinates mark themselves on the map. “That’s a colony moon, in the Wylerian system.”

“You know it?” His gaze cut to her with interest.

“Sort of. I’ve only been there once to their trade planet, Wyleri. Good information there, but better jazz music, I admit.” She watched as Dreadwing keyed the coordinates into the ship. “So we’re going? I doubt any Autobots are going to answer that call, seeing as how they already managed a rescue.”

“I doubt that as well. But the rebel communication network is deeply flawed. There will be many in their ranks who don’t know that fact, and I’m sure at least a few will be there, waiting for me.” The ship revved. Starlines became visible outside the cockpit. “Let’s go say hello.”


	7. What's in a Name?

Elizabeth couldn't shake her feeling of wrongness as Wyleri's colony moon, Vigna VII, loomed in the viewport. It wasn't Vigna VII itself per se or even that it was in a system located a lot closer to Cybertron than she would have liked. Even from this distance, it looked to be a lovely moon full of fertile farm land interspersed with industrial cities and a few small oceans. She was sure the food there was nice, the people interesting, and the climate more or less mild.

But she still couldn't shake her feeling. It'd gotten worse and worse the longer she sat on it, the more she pondered that intercepted transmission.

If there was anything Elizabeth had learned, even before becoming a data thief, it was that your instincts were usually correct in warning you about _something_.

Unfortunately, and unless it was obvious, she'd never been too good at deciphering just what that exact something could be.

"Still not too late to turn back, you know," she said to Dreadwing beside her in the pilot's chair. "I won't tell if you won't."

"Frightened, Palmer?"

Not exactly, she realized, the same moment she noted that Dreadwing was using her name more and calling her _thief_ less often. Ever since Skyquake's burial, when she'd earned a tinge of respect from him. A good sign.

Nodding toward the moon, she said, "I don't know about you, but something just doesn't seem right about this. It seems like…"

"A trap," he finished bluntly.

"Well, now that you put it into words, yes. That's exactly it."

"I've considered the possibility," Dreadwing said, "and the potential danger is minimal."

"How do you figure?"

"Because, if it is a trap, it is not of Autobot design. Luring their prey has never been their style. Other rebel cells, however, have acted independently of the Autobots in the past. Whether a trap or a true beacon for help, we will only find some minor insurgents waiting for us, mostly organics like yourself. By the time the Autobots arrive, _if_ they arrive, I will have the advantage."

Elizabeth bit the inside of her cheek, considering. That _did_ make sense, she supposed, but she also didn't feel any better.

Dreadwing seemed to sense her unease, but for the wrong reasons. "Should we come under fire, you will be well-guarded."

Oh? Was that right? "Wow, Dreadwing, you're going to personally guard me?" She smiled beatifically. "I don't know what to say."

Dreadwing vented and threw her a sidelong glance. But other than a shake of his head, he didn't otherwise reproach or correct her.

"Wait, that means I'm coming with you," she continued, eyes brightening. "Really? You're not just going to lock me in the ship and expect me to wait around again?"

"And allow you the perfect opportunity to escape? No, Palmer." He gave her a hard, scrutinizing look. "From now on, I'm not letting you out of my sight."

Elizabeth still thought this whole thing was a bad idea, but that feeling was quickly overtaken by a warm, pleasant feeling in her chest. It made her head feel light and her stomach to flutter slightly. Dreadwing guarding her. Dreadwing watching her. The thought was heady and not at all what he intended, but… He'd said it. It was something real. It was enough. What more could she ask for?

Perhaps a little more…

"Please, Dreadwing,” she said, shooting him a grin. “Last names make us sound like strangers. You're more than welcome to call me _Elizabeth_ , you know. It's only fair since you don't have a last name."

He sighed, but the corner of his mouth turned up just slightly, as if he were fighting a wry smile. "If I did, would you even use it?"

"If you truly insisted, yes. I would want you to be comfortable." Smiling faintly, she gazed out at the few, fading stars she could see as Dreadwing began piloting the ship down to Vigna VII. "But I'm kinda glad you don't have one. I like your name as is."

Elizabeth glanced back, only to find Dreadwing wasn't staring straight ahead, concentrating on flying and enduring her like she assumed he would be. Instead, he was turned toward her, his red optics assessing her with their steady glow.

Something about his gaze, its intensity, its priority on her caused her face to warm. And maybe she was imagining that there was something more in it than usual, something weighted, but real or not, she was aware of him. Aware in a way she hadn't been before, every nerve and cell and pore primed to his attention.

So this was what it felt like, to have him watch her.

All the times she'd casually, easily flirted with him, she'd never felt like this, so…pinned. So caught. Not even the moment they’d met when he’d actually had her clenched in his fist had been anywhere close to how she felt under the influence of his gaze right now. This felt neither casual nor easy. It felt serious.

Which is why she was probably, definitely imagining it, imagining things she knew couldn't happen but yearned for just the same. She enjoyed flirting with him, had been instantly attracted to him, true, but it was also true that, even though he'd gotten laxer in admonishing her for it, he'd also never reciprocated it, never once flirted back. She was starting to wonder if he even knew how.

But that stare implied otherwise…

She could start wishing a lot more of him, with a look like that. Something a lot more tangible than teasing looks and suggestive words, if she wasn’t careful. And if there weren’t a host of obstacles and circumstances in their path.

Decepticon, bounty hunter, commander, enemy. He was all these things. And she, a human, a thief, a free agent, caught assisting rebels… She had no place in that equation, had absolutely no urge to change or pretend to be anything different than what she was. He knew it, too, had made it clear from day one.

Yes, she was imagining things. He wasn’t looking at her any differently than usual, was probably searching for just the right thing to say to deflect her. And a good thing, too, that one of them had some sense to do so, to keep that small but bold wish from breaking out of the trappings she kept deep within her heart.

“What is it now?”

His weary tone more than his words breached the clutter of her thoughts. Elizabeth hadn’t realized she’d turned away from him, looking at the moon’s landscape closing in without actually seeing any of it. She shook herself mentally and physically, her head moving side to side. “Sorry, just… Wondering about what Starscream said. Aren’t some of your people trying to find us, too?”

Not a complete untruth. She’d been mulling this over for a while but hadn’t yet found the right time to bring it up to Dreadwing.

But one glance at him told her she was worrying about it far more than he was.

“Yes, well, that’s what he claimed at any rate,” Dreadwing replied.

“You don’t think he was serious?”

A stiff movement of his shoulders. “Who can say with Starscream? Lies find home on his glossa as naturally as trouble finds sparklings. There’s no way to tell what’s true and what’s false with his little machinations, particularly when he stands to gain something from it.”

“Like your command?” She didn’t feel the need to add, _if you fail_. They both knew what was at stake.

“Or my seekers, in particular,” he said.  

“Because they’re better than his?”

Now she was sure Dreadwing was smiling. “While I may not particularly like or respect Starscream, he _is_ the Air Commander and Lord Megatron’s Second for a reason. I can assure you his seekers are well-trained and, I can admit, the best in the fleet. However, mine and Skyquake’s can more than hold their own against his, and he knows it. That’s why he wants them, to add more to his own arsenal, to gain more power.” Here, he frowned, an icy sort of anger filling his optics. “In fact, I suspect he’s already taken steps to inherit Skyquake’s, unless Lord Megatron has promoted another to take over my brother’s command.”

“But what in the world is he going to do with all these seekers?” She laughed to break the tension. “Try to overthrow Megatron?”

Dreadwing gave her a silent, pointed looked.

The smile slipped from her face. “You’re kidding…”

“In any case,” Dreadwing continued unperturbed, as if the possibility of Starscream overthrowing Megatron, the Emperor of the Universe, was a common thing to discuss. “While I do think it’s reasonable to assume that Lord Megatron _has_ deployed a small force to retrieve us, we’ve been moving enough to stay out of their range. By the time I’ve finished this business with the Autobots, they may have caught up with us, and if not, I’ll continue on to Cybertron—without their escort.”

Not one hint of reservation in his voice. Not one shred of concern, doubt, or regret about the casual way he spoke about his upcoming fate, and hers. As if they were returning to Cybertron to see the sights instead of facing a warlord’s wrath, and probably worse in her case. Instead, Dreadwing was a loyal soldier to the last.

She let Dreadwing land the ship in silence, pondering her own resolve.

Space was tight, but he managed to land the ship between two outcroppings of rocks, hiding the vessel within a fissure. There were no dwellings about, no businesses or venues. Nothing but rocky hills and mountains with dried-out, mossy grass in colors of green, yellow, and brown.

Oh, and the creatures that were some sort of cross between a mountain goat and a chameleon. She started as one appeared, half-camouflaged, on a nearby ledge, its skin like a dry, leathery rock. It stamped a hoof and bleated, looking at her with round, moon-eyes facing the same opposing directions as its horns.

_Terrifying._

"Palmer," Dreadwing said, breaking her out of her stare down with his creature of death. He crouched down and extended his hand, palm up. "Let's go."

With no shortage of relief, she stepped up into Dreadwing's hand. In seconds, she was tucked into the cockpit of his alt-mode, and they were blazing away, keeping low to the ground. They had about fifty miles to cover until they reached the rendezvous point, an easy distance for a Cybertronian with a flight mode to cover. But Dreadwing was moving slower, more stealthily than usual, keeping clear of any major towns and as close to empty, rural terrain as possible. He did not want to be spotted or heard.

Elizabeth fidgeted, her hands and side holster empty. He hadn't allowed her to bring her blaster, and the decision didn't sit well with her, especially if this _was_ a trap.

She hoped like hell she wouldn't need it.

Their flight took them to the edge of a small metropolis, near what she supposed was some sort of shipping yard. Countless cylindrical storage containers, large rusty boxcars, and warehouses with curved, arched roofs cluttered the area. No ships, though. They strangely weren't near any sea. Dreadwing landed before they got too close, a little over a mile away.

_Guess we're walking_ , she thought, preparing to step down from his hand. But suddenly, she had to grab on to a servo for support as he lifted her far away from the ground, bringing her up to his shoulder.

"This is new," she remarked, holding fast to any part of him she could reach. His plating was smooth but warm beneath her hands. Grounding her stance, she finally glanced at her feet, and immediately stopped doing that. It was a long way down.

"Keep a lookout," Dreadwing ordered. "I'm not too keen on allowing anyone to sneak up behind us."

"You trust me to watch your six?"

"I trust you to not want to get shot yourself."

"That's fair."

She braced herself as Dreadwing began to take long, lumbering steps toward the shipping yard. Though she moved with his gait, she was hardly jostled from her position, his stride even and smooth. He'd come fully armed, sword strapped to his back along with his cannon, and the additional weight didn't seem to affect him at all. His red optics were narrowed as he meticulously searched their surrounding area. The fading light of dusk glinted off his blue armor in shades of amber orange, amaranth pink, and royal yellow. He appeared every inch the noble warrior, the proud samurai, and it was breathtaking. Elizabeth wished she could see him fully, if just so she could always remember him as he was in this moment, the controlled calm before a violent struggle.

She was supposed to be watching for something, not staring at him wondrously. With effort, she tore her eyes away, looking back the way they'd come. No movement, no sign of a threat, not even from the tall grasses in the distance. Gravel crunched under Dreadwing's pedes, the only other sound being the faraway caw of birds.

Or something bird-like anyway. This moon reminded her a lot of Earth, but there were clear differences to be had if Vigna VII was stuck with the likes of chameleon goats.

"So," Elizabeth began, keeping her voice low, "what's the plan anyway? You hoping a rebel will show, and they'll tell you where the Bots are? Or are you going to add another hostage to your collection and try to force them out?"

Nothing was said, nothing was heard. Nothing except Dreadwing's heavy, rhythmic steps.

"Or," she continued, forthright, "are you just trying to force a confrontation with Bumblebee?"

Dreadwing halted. "Quiet," he said. Not snappish but slowly, his senses more trained than ever. Elizabeth felt him tense and reach for his sword. His actions caused her to tense, too. She crouched low on his shoulder, and her eyes darted to the open spaces around them. Had he heard something?

A beat passed, then two, then three. Gradually, like a cougar rising out of a pounce, Dreadwing straightened, his servos releasing the iron-hard grip on his sword hilt. He continued walking, whatever threat he sensed passed. They crossed to the first row of boxcars and entered the shipyard without incident.

A sigh of relief passed from Elizabeth, and her shoulders slumped forward. But…

But her skin had started crawling. Maybe it was paranoia, but she could swear they were now being watched. And these warehouses… Whoever designed them had given them far too many windows.

"I think," she said lowly, "you should put me down."

Dreadwing didn't respond at first. She wondered if he'd heard her, if he was just ignoring her.

But then… "Yes, I think you're right."

She had just gotten reacquainted with the ground when she heard it, the crunching, metallic steps, the ones only a Cybertronian possessed.

Then an energon cannon being primed, the sound rising in a crescendo.

"Commander Dreadwing," a deep, grave voice said from behind them. "By order of Lord Megatron and the Decepticon Empire, you are under arrest."

Elizabeth spun around.

Not to find an Autobot, but one of the many Decepticon soldiers that had marched on her world. Same purple and gray plating, same faceless frames, sporting nothing but a v-shaped opening for their optics, as if they were wearing a visor to peer at her through. Two wing blades stretched up from his back, and both arm cannons were trained on Dreadwing.

Before either of them could react, a soaring, hissing rumble rent through the air, many at once, and Elizabeth looked up to see a host of Decepticon jets pealing full-tilt in their direction, coming from all sides. Almost in unison, they all transformed from their jet modes, a mesmerizing dance of whirling metal, to land in a circle around them. A glance over her shoulder confirmed it.

They were completely surrounded, by a dozen hostiles.


	8. Blindside

Elizabeth had never been exposed to a silence as tense and uncertain as the one she was trapped in now. Twelve pairs of arm cannons primed and focused in her direction, waiting for one wrong move. Distrust and aggression hanging thick in the air, coating her tongue, keeping her from speaking. The glaring realization that Starscream hadn't cried wolf about the search party Megatron had sent after them, a point that she and Dreadwing had considered and ignored. And that word— _arrest_ —pounding singularly in her head in time with the beat of her heart.  

"You dare raise a cannon to me, Sonar?" The words were low, hushed, but the force behind them was anything but, shattering the silence that had frozen Elizabeth in place. A quick glance up showed Dreadwing, proud as ever, locked in a stare down with an Eradicon seeker on their right. "After vorns of serving my twin, whose spark has barely rejoined with the Allspark?"

So they weren't just drones; Dreadwing knew their names, or at least this one's name. How could he tell? They all looked alike. Elizabeth studied Sonar then and she saw it. The differences between the seekers were minimal, but they were there. A splash of color here, a slight wing modification there. A few other seekers possessed the green colored lines near the spark casing that Sonar did. The rest had purple and silver. Perhaps it denoted rank or which officer they belonged to?

"I mourn for Commander Skyquake. But I serve Lord Megatron, and our orders were clear," Sonar replied, voice wavering only a little, though his aim remained steady. "Surrender now, or we will open fire."

Questions later. Action now. Elizabeth raised her hands in the classic gesture of surrender.

"Hey, now, folks, let's not get too trigger-happy yet." She took a slight step forward, stopped as Sonar's attention snapped to her along with a third of the cannons. The lead seeker's held steady on Dreadwing.

She motioned her fingers into a little wave. "Hi, Elizabeth Palmer here, resident data hacker and maker of bad decisions, apparently. Sorry for leading you guys out on a wild goose chase and everything, but you caught me now. That was the goal all along, right?" Slowly, she lowered her hands. "So how about we all just take a deep breath and head back to Cybertron? Nobody gets hurt, and Megatron gets what he wants.”

Arms akimbo, she nodded towards Dreadwing. “Besides, I wouldn't shoot the Commander if I were you. He has information your boss would love to hear."

Dreadwing looked at her, a question burning in his optics. Surprise, suspicion, and…confusion. Elizabeth just shrugged helplessly. Hardly the time to explain to him why seeing him get hurt was the last thing she wanted.

A beat passed. A second, a third. In a long, slow vent, Dreadwing relaxed his stance. The lead seeker motioned forward, and another stepped toward Dreadwing, steel cuffs in hand. Elizabeth did not watch as he restrained Dreadwing.

Another stepped toward her, and she waved him off. "Oh, please, allow me. I brought my own." And the thief flashed the seeker a big grin as she unclipped from her belt the pair of restraints Dreadwing had used on her. Elizabeth snapped one around her wrist, and the other, as if magnetized, followed suit in an instant. She let the seeker inspect them, stumbled as he tugged on them to make sure they were working. The seeker nodded to the leader and stepped back. Elizabeth sighed in relief.

"Walk," the leader said before executing a perfect heel to toe turn and leading the march. Flanked by enemies on all sides, Elizabeth had no choice but to follow, hoping no one stepped on her. She risked a glance at Dreadwing, but she may as well have tried to read stone.

Loose gravel crunched under Elizabeth’s boots as she was forced to jog every few paces to keep up with the group. Wherever they were going, she hoped they would get there quickly. She didn’t have the cardio or stamina for this. They passed in between a line of boxcars, the rapidly setting sun casting imposing shadows halfway over their path. Peering through the legs of the Eradicon in front of her, Elizabeth spied dull lights glimmering in the distance. They were heading towards the city, but whether or not that was their destination wasn’t clear.

She opened her mouth to ask aloud to the group, but was cut off.

To her left, a seeker had leaned towards another, both their arm cannons still in position, and, to Elizabeth's ill-timed amusement, began gossiping under his breath. "That's her, then? That's the fleshie that's been causing all the fuss?"

"That other human Commander Starscream brought in will be pleased. They'll probably ship her back to New Vos after this. I think that’s where they dug her up," the other replied. "Commander'll be pleased, too. A plan actually worked for once."

"Not what I heard, Duct."

"What'd'you mean?"

"I mean, this right here? Wasn't Starscream's doing. He was _furious_ about it. It was the human's plan."

Elizabeth darted a glance at Dreadwing to see if he was hearing this conversation, too. Judging from the frown on his face, he was. She could practically feel how much he wanted to bite out an order for silence, for discipline, but was currently powerless to do so.

"You must take me for a sparkling, Lenox,” Duct replied, chuckling. “Lord Megatron would never listen to a human."

"He listened to this one."

Duct made a disbelieving sound. Then— "Well, I supposed it _was_ a little…forward-thinking."

"Mmhmm."

Another glance at Dreadwing. He wasn’t frowning anymore, mouth upturned in a little smirk.

"So what does that mean? A human's giving orders now?"

"I don't really care, as long as I get my energon at the end of the day. _Primus_ , I’m beat."

“Quit complainin’. I’ve been on the same slagging mission as you, bit-brain.”

Elizabeth went to ask them more about this human that had apparently sold her out, but then the leader spoke, not to the group but someone else. "This is Nova reporting in. We have Commander Dreadwing and Elizabeth Palmer in custody, Lord Megatron. Requesting a SpaceBridge."

Her heart dropped down to her shoes. A SpaceBridge. The seekers weren't going to the city, weren’t going to fly them the few days it would take to get to Cybertron, allowing her to think, to make plans and peace with herself—and Dreadwing. They were going straight there, in seconds. As soon as they breached past the atmosphere. She wasn't ready. She wasn't the least bit ready. Fear that she had forgotten the sharp, electric taste of flooded the pit of her stomach, clogging her throat. For a moment, her vision blurred.

Nova continued, "We encountered no resistance from either—"

And then the world around them exploded.

* * *

When Elizabeth regained consciousness, her first thought was that somebody had rudely plugged her ears and trapped a ringing bell inside.

Her second was that her right arm was asleep, pins and needles prickling all down the limb as the blood returned, her wrists still bound.

Her third was that someone was dragging her.

Eyes snapping open, she thrashed and kicked against the ground, regained her footing. Hands—warm, human—dropped from under her arms in surprise. A male voice cursed from somewhere far away.

Elizabeth didn't turn to see who it was. She was already running, the lock on her restraints springing free with barely a thought. _Where was Dreadwing?_

"No, wait!" That same voice called from behind her. She didn't.

And then her breath was knocked from her as she was tackled to the ground.

Her head was pounding, feeling like it had split-open at her rough landing. Elizabeth clawed at the ground, thrashed, tried to get this troublesome weight off of her so she could run. _Where is he?_

"Stop! Are you crazy!?" the man said. Hands gripped her shoulders, flipped her onto her back. Elizabeth caught a glimpse of disheveled black hair, startled blue eyes imploring her to listen, before he said, "They'll _kill_ you!"

And finally, at that word, she stopped.

Looked.

Listened.

The man above her was breathing hard, not from their struggle but from panic. And he wasn't really a man at all. Young, perhaps a few years younger than her.

Above them the sky was a gradient of indigo and black, a few stars twinkling through the cloud cover. The sun had set at some point after she'd lost consciousness.

How had that happened?

At last, she heard it, still somewhat muffled, but that sound could never be mistaken for anything else. Laser fire. Shrieking metal.

The young man leaned back, offered her a hand up. Elizabeth took it, already looking around for the source of the sound.

She found it quickly, in the opposite direction of where the young man had been dragging her. The shipping yard. Hard to miss, really, with it glowing against the night in a wreath of orange fire.

And she'd been charging straight towards it like a crazed, wild-eyed horse.

"We picked up the distress signal," the young man explained. "But after contacting the local cell, we realized it wasn't one of ours, so we came to spring the trap before anyone fell into it." He winced. "We were a little late, sorry."

Elizabeth worked to form words. “You almost blew me up, too.”

He grimaced. “ _Widow_. God, I’m so sorry about that. We didn’t realize you were with them." He looked her over, radiating concern. “Are you okay?”

She checked herself, rotated her arms, bent her knees. Her hearing was getting slowly back to normal. He didn’t sound like he was yards away, and the ringing wasn’t as shrill. “Yeah, I’m okay. Who are you, anyway?"

"Introductions later. I need to get us clear of the battle. But you can trust me. I'm with the Autobots."

It wasn't that Elizabeth immediately distrusted the boy, but she needed to find Dreadwing. "I—"

She was cut off by a bolt of blue lightning sizzling past them, missing them by a few scant meters and exploding in a shower of dirt and concrete. Practically jumping out of her skin, she instead chirped, "Lead the way!"

He led her at a sprint toward a copse of trees, not dense enough to be considered a forest, but it would provide enough cover for them to avoid the battle while keeping it in their sights. Elizabeth realized that she and Dreadwing had approached the shipyard from a different direction.

A head poked out from one of the trees as they approached. A small hand frantically waved them forward. "C'mon, c'mon!" hissed a young woman with a pert nose and dark, oval-shaped eyes. Her black hair was shaved in an undercut on the left side of her scalp. Shocking locks of teal hair, appearing closer to silver in the moonlight, bobbed over her right shoulder as she jumped from foot to foot.

The dark-haired man charged for her direction, and Elizabeth blindly followed.

They both doubled over to catch their breath, but it was the young woman who went, "Whew! That was a close one."

"You're telling me," the man replied. "I'm just glad we got back before you decided to wander off."

"Another minute, and I'm sure she would have," a higher male voice piped up. Elizabeth turned to see a shorter, bespectacled boy approaching them. "Nice work."

Elizabeth looked at her running buddy. "I believe I was promised some introductions?"

"I'm Specs," said the teenager with the rectangular-framed glasses. He looked like a proper nerd with his meticulously styled clothes and the brown hair that refused to lay flat, sticking up in places as if it couldn't forget the spiked-up hairstyle favored by so many young earthling boys. Specs appeared younger than her by six or seven years easily, and all Elizabeth could think was, _Protect him_. He gestured to the young woman beside him who may have just breached her twenties. "This is Rift—"

"Amp," the girl corrected forcefully with a cheeky smile. "I changed it, remember?"

"You can't just go changing your codename, _Rift_ ," said the oldest in the bunch, the one who'd found her. The girl made a face and the man sighed in resignation. "Fine, Amp it is. Specs, can you let everyone else know?"

"Already on it," Specs said, and he was. Before the conversation was even halfway finished, Specs had whipped out a handheld computer and was typing frantically with one hand.

Despite the circumstances, Elizabeth was trying and failing not to grin. Quirky codenames, James Bond-level technology, and the cloak and dagger to go with it, too. So this was the resistance. These were the people from her world and so many others she'd been trying to help.

"Anyway," the man continued, "I'm Ace." To Specs, he said, "Go ahead and contact Doc, too. Let him know we're—"

"Hang on," Elizabeth said, holding up a hand. Then she extended it. "Elizabeth Palmer."

Ace shook it, his eyes going wide. "So _you're_ the Extractor we've been trying to find."

"Doc's been beside himself with worry ever since we found out your transport went down," Specs said. He looked up from his typing. "We're really, _really_ sorry about that."

"Yeah, and those clowns from the Free Planet Coalition weren't any help at all." Amp crossed her arms and groused something in Japanese that Elizabeth's translator immediately interpreted as a very unflattering insult.

"One of them died," Elizabeth reminded them firmly but not unkindly.

The Japanese girl looked taken aback then ashamed, avoiding her eyes. "Yeah…"

"Are you okay?" Specs asked, pointing at his forehead. "You're bleeding."

Elizabeth reached up, felt the cut on her right temple. It stung like hell to the touch, and her fingers came away with a little blood, but she could tell that it was mostly clotting. That explained her headache at least, but then again, everything was beginning to ache. "Yeah, I'm fine."

An explosion big enough to shake the ground rumbled under their feet. As one they turned toward the ship yard, which was quickly becoming a ruin. "It's getting bad," Ace said.

"Yeah, for them," Amp said smugly, punching her fist into her palm. "Bulk's in there causing all kinds of damage. Ugh, I wish I was there and not stuck out here in the nosebleed seats."

Elizabeth wished she could share Amp's enthusiasm, she really did. But the way she talked about battle, like it was a game… There's no way she could humor the same outlook. Not after learning that the Eradicons that had plagued her world weren't drones at all like they had all supposed. They were sentient, with their own wants and desires, fears and hopes, bred to follow orders. They were villains and heroes and perfectly ordinary soldiers. Things weren't black and white anymore.

They hadn't been black and white since she'd met Dreadwing.

"Hold on," said Specs, fiddling with his computer. "Transmission from Bee coming in."

Elizabeth's heart stopped for a moment. "Bee?" she asked tentatively.

Ace responded. "Bumblebee. He's one of the Autobots."

Bumblebee.

The one who had killed Skyquake.

_Shit._

She had to get over there. She had to find Dreadwing. What was she even doing?

"I'm sorry, but I have to—"

"Oh, no," Specs breathed, face paling whiter than a sheet, a series of beeps at alternate pitches coming from his handheld.

"What?" Amp scooted closer to Specs, concerned. "What's he saying? Is Bulk okay?"

But Elizabeth found she didn't need those beeps decoded. It wasn't her translator that had allowed her to know what Bumblebee had said, but that strange gift that she didn't fully understand yet.

Still, her stomach hollowed out, dread settling deep inside her as Specs looked at them, brown eyes wide, and said, "Megatron's here." 

**Author's Note:**

> git reckt liz
> 
> Chapter Order (it does not just go back and forth, unfortunately, we dun goofed):
> 
> "The Pursuit" - The Hunter  
> "New Vos" - Play the Game  
> "Pit Stop" - The Hunter  
> "Kaon" - Play the Game  
> "The Warlord" - Play the Game  
> "Getting to Know the Enemy" - The Hunter  
> "Doctor in the House" - Play the Game  
> "Family Is Everything" - The Hunter  
> "Party Like a Seeker" - Play the Game  
> "No Rest for the Wicked" - Play the Game  
> "Skyquake" - The Hunter  
> "A Good Spy" - Play the Game  
> "The Heart of the Matter" - The Hunter  
> "Closer" - Play the Game  
> "What's in a Name?" - The Hunter  
> "Control" - Play the Game  
> "Blindside" - The Hunter


End file.
